There is not much bustle about the big house on the Tyuonyi. The men are out and at work, and the children have retired to the court-yard, A group of girls alone enlivens the space between the main building and the new home of the Corn people. They are gathered in a throng while they talk, laugh, and chatter, pointing at the fresh coat of clay which they have finished applying to the outside of the new building. Their hands are yet filled with the liquid material used for plastering, and they taunt each other as to the relative merits of their work.
One of the maidens, a plump little thing with a pair of lively eyes, calls out to another, pointing at a spot where the plaster appears less smooth and even,—
"See there, Aistshie, you did that! You were too lazy to go over it again. Look at my work; how even it is compared with yours!"
The other girl shrugged her shoulders and retorted,—
"It may be, but it is not my fault, it is yours, Sayap. You did it yesterday when we beat off the boys. You pushed Shyuote against the wall and he thumped his head here. See, this is the mark where he struck the clay. You did this, Sayap, not I."
Sayap laughed, and her buxom form shook.
"You are right; I did it, I served the urchin right. It was good, was it not, Aistshie? How I punished the brat, and how he looked afterward with his face all one mud-patch!"
"Yes," Aistshie objected, "but I did more. I faced Okoya, despite his bow and arrows. That was more than you did."
The other girls interrupted the scornful reply which Sayap was on the point of giving. They crowded around the two with a number of eager questions.
"What was it?" queried one.