II.
| game | feast | November | stew |
| roasts | poured | turkeys | veil |
| stuffed | sermon | popcorn | haze |
It was in the month of November, but the weather was mild and lovely, and a soft blue haze seemed to veil the woods.
Late wild flowers were blooming. Bright leaves were falling from the trees. It was the time of year that we call Indian summer.
A great fire was built out of doors for the cooking, and long tables were spread in the open air. When the loud roll of the drum was heard, all the people went to the log fort on the hill which was used as a meeting house. There they gave thanks to God for the rich harvest of the year.
Everybody, young and old, was there. The little children must have grown very tired of the long sermon. They must have wanted to go home to the good dinner which they knew was waiting for them.
At last the Thanksgiving feast was ready. In the middle of the long table stood a huge bowl of stew made of different kinds of game.
There were great roasts of deer and roasted turkeys stuffed with nuts. There were the cakes and puddings made by the Pilgrim mothers. And it is said that the Indians brought a large basket of popcorn which they poured on the table just as the meal began.
In this way the Pilgrims passed their first Thanksgiving Day in America.
—Marian M. George.
[THANKSGIVING DAY]
Over the river and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh
Through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river and through the wood,
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.
Over the river and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play;
Here the bells ring,
"Ting-a-ling-ding!"
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river and through the wood,
Trot fast, my dapple-gray!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound!
For this is Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river and through the wood,
And straight through the barnyard gate.
We seem to go
Extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait!
Over the river and through the wood,
Now grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!
—Lydia Maria Child.