All along the way there were many curious, interesting things that caught both Peggy’s and Jo Ann’s attention—peons with trays or baskets either balanced on their heads or set on little portable stands; women squatting on the sidewalks selling flowers and fruits, tortillas, tamales, and other foods; beggars waiting on every corner trying to rouse the sympathy of the shoppers.
While the lively, talkative Peggy plied Florence with question after question about the people and their strange customs, Jo Ann had an opportunity to peer into each of the queer little shops they passed. She even stared at all the little stands in the street, almost expecting to see a rope dangling from one of them, so intent was she upon her search. Even though everything imaginable seemed offered for sale, she found nothing that in any way resembled a rope.
“Where do they sell rope in this curious place?” she wondered. If she could persuade Florence to return home along another street, perhaps she’d find a store there where she could get it.
Her perplexing problems were forgotten a moment later as the market loomed before them. It was a huge old building occupying an entire block. The immense roof was supported by heavy stone columns and broad arches which showed signs of having been, at one time, tinted in bright colors but now looked dull and faded. The plaster was cracked and soiled, and in places great slabs had fallen off, leaving the bare stones exposed.
“Oh, I love this!” exclaimed Jo Ann. “It’s one of the most interesting places I’ve ever seen. The people—their dress—their customs—the very atmosphere is different. It’s hard to realize this is the twentieth century when you look around here.”
“Yes, it is very old and much the same as it was centuries ago,” replied Florence.
Stalls had been set up in every inch of available space inside the building. Some were piled high with golden tropical fruits—oranges, mangoes, guavas, bananas, pineapples; others were festooned with strings of onions, garlic, and red chili peppers—all very necessary to add a piquant flavor to the limited fare of the Mexican.
Slowly they made their way along the narrow, crowded passageways between the stalls, Peggy and Jo Ann stopping every few minutes to question Florence about the different things they saw.
Finally, after glancing at her watch, Florence stopped abruptly and exclaimed, “Gracious! It’s after nine o’clock—I’ll never get through at this rate—not if I stop to answer all of Peggy’s numerous questions.” She laughed and gave Peggy’s arm an affectionate pat. “Would you girls like to wander around and take in the sights while I finish my marketing?”
“Yes, we’d love to,” promptly answered Jo Ann. “Wouldn’t we, Peg?”