an extra polish to the tankard before placing it beside the Captain's
trencher. The spiced drink to fill it was already mulling beside the
fire with a huge kettle of vegetables steaming beside it. The closet
door was open, giving a tantalizing glimpse of glories to come.

"So there 's where ye keep 'em," observed the Captain, regarding the
pies with open admiration. "'T is a sight to make a man thankful for
the room in his hold. By jolly, it 'll take careful loading to stow
this dinner away proper!"

He called Nancy to his side and opened the bulging leather pocket
which hung from his belt. "Feel in there," he said. "I brought along
something to fill in the chinks."

Nancy thrust in her hand, and brought it out filled with raisins. "I
got 'em off a ship just in from the Indies," explained the Captain.
Raisins were a great luxury in the wilderness, and the delighted Nancy
hastened to find a dish and to place them beside the pies.

"All ready," said the mother at last. "Come to dinner."

There was no need of a second invitation, and the response to the
summons looked like a stampede. The Goodman and his wife took their
places at the head of the table with the Captain on one side and the
children on the other, and because it was Thanksgiving, and because he
had had such a hard day and night, and most of all because he was so
clean, Zeb was allowed a place at the foot of the board.

The Goodman asked a blessing and then heaped the trenchers high with
what he called the bounty of the Lord. There was only one cloud on