Cap'n John Smith, and look, we are all dressed up for the Indian
wedding!"

Waitstill had on a crown of white birch bark and her braid of
hair, twined with running ever-green, fell to her waist. Patty
was wreathed with columbines and decked with some turkey feathers
that she had put in her basket as too pretty to throw away.
Waitstill looked rather conscious in her unusual finery, but
Patty sported it with the reckless ease and innocent vanity that
characterized her.

"I shall have to run into father's store to put myself tidy,"
Waitstill said, "so good-bye, Rodman, we'll have another picnic
some day. Patty, you must do the chores this afternoon, you know,
so that I can go to choir rehearsal,"

Rodman and Patty started up the hill gayly with their burdens,
and Ivory walked by Waitstill's side as she pulled off her
birch-bark crown and twisted her braid around her head with a
heightened color at being watched.

"I'11 say good-bye now, Ivory, but I'11 see you at the
meeting-house," she said, as she neared the store. "I'll go in
here and brush the pine needles off, wash my hands, and rest a
little before rehearsal. That's a puzzling anthem we have for
to-morrow."

"I have my horse here; let me drive you up to the church."

"I can't, Ivory, thank you. Father's orders are against my