"Well, it is pleasant to travel," replied the girl, and she led them to one of the tents and took them inside. There was a bed and a wash-stand and two chairs in it, but above all there was a delicious odor which they inhaled as if they could not get enough of it.
"That is the dried sweet grass," said the maiden. "I make the baskets with that." She dropped the large light basket off her arm. "I take them to the hotel every afternoon, after the ladies take their naps," she smiled again at the children. "They feel very bright and happy then, and they buy my baskets. See how few I have brought back? Then in the mornings I work."
"O, may we see you do it sometime?"
"Certainly you may. I am going to finish one now. There is one chair for the little girl and for the boy there is the floor." She gave Hal one of her bright smiles as she said it, and he dropped down, watching the strange, dark being with admiring eyes. Among the men Indians he had not seen one who fulfilled his idea of a "Brave" but this maid was more beautiful than any Indian Princess he had imagined.
"Now let us know all of our names," said the maiden as she seated herself and pulled toward her the unfinished basket, upon which she began to weave.
"My name is Harold, but they call me Hal, because my father's name is Harold, and my mother likes to know us apart; and my sister's name is Lois. Please tell us yours."
The Indian girl smiled at her work. "My name is Wenonah. I went to a great school down in Virginia and there a teacher showed me the poem of Hiawatha. I have the name of his beautiful mother."
"I like it," said Hal promptly.
"So do I," added Lois.
"Then we all know each other now," said the girl. "Quick, that ship going by! Isn't it a picture?"