Her mind rebelled and indignation took the place of sadness as she thought of the happy wigwam that her warrior supplied so well with game and fish; and how she used to enjoy the security of their forest home. While her brave was out after the chase, she was grinding the corn and tanning the skins. When he journeyed far in his favorite hunting-grounds she was cultivating the maize and potatoes for her loved ones, so that there would be plenty for her lord upon his return.
Many times did she swing her baby girl to sleep while her boy played about the lodge and gazed at her with love in his young eyes as she sang:
“Swinging, swinging, lullaby,
“Sleep thou, sleep thou, sleep thou,
“Little daughter, lullaby.
“Swinging, swinging, swinging,
“Little daughter, lullaby.
“Your mother cares for you,
“Sleep, sleep, sleep, lullaby.