sometimes with another one, this old squaw, at whose wigwam I
was, and with whom my master had been those three weeks.
Another was Wattimore [Weetamoo] with whom I had lived and
served all this while. A severe and proud dame she was,
bestowing every day in dressing herself neat as much time as any
of the gentry of the land: powdering her hair, and painting her
face, going with necklaces, with jewels in her ears, and
bracelets upon her hands. When she had dressed herself, her
work was to make girdles of wampum and beads. The third squaw
was a younger one, by whom he had two papooses. By the time I
was refreshed by the old squaw, with whom my master was,
Weetamoo's maid came to call me home, at which I fell aweeping.
Then the old squaw told me, to encourage me, that if I wanted
victuals, I should come to her, and that I should lie there in
her wigwam. Then I went with the maid, and quickly came again
and lodged there. The squaw laid a mat under me, and a good rug
over me; the first time I had any such kindness showed me. I
understood that Weetamoo thought that if she should let me go
and serve with the old squaw, she would be in danger to lose not
only my service, but the redemption pay also. And I was not a
little glad to hear this; being by it raised in my hopes, that
in God's due time there would be an end of this sorrowful hour.
Then came an Indian, and asked me to knit him three pair of
stockings, for which I had a hat, and a silk handkerchief. Then
another asked me to make her a shift, for which she gave me an
apron.

Then came Tom and Peter, with the second letter from the
council, about the captives. Though they were Indians, I got
them by the hand, and burst out into tears. My heart was so