Patience. Oh, I don't want him to miss it!
Myles. Hark! [A bob-white is heard without.] That's his whistle now.
Mother. Open cautiously, Myles.
[Myles and Roger open door a little and
close it as soon as the Indian has slipped
through. Patience and Prudence run
to draw him to the tree.
Patience. See, Eaglefeather! Just see our Christmas Tree!
Prudence. Isn't it beautiful, Eaglefeather?
Indian. Beautiful! Eaglefeather think like many stars! [Points to candles, then touches something shining.] Like sun shining on snow fields.
Myles. Now, Mother, can't we sing our carol?
Mother. Yes, Myles, and then it will be more than ever like Old England.