(The Chisera listens and turns slowly.)

Chief

Is that my daughter?

Tavwots

Hush! Perhaps she will move her!

Bright Water

Do you think yourself aggrieved so much, Chisera? Come, I will match sorrow with you, I and all these (the women surge forward), and the stakes shall be the people. Here is my pride that I throw down, in my bride year to know my husband an impostor. Have you any sorrow to match with that?

Wacoba

Since you wish a man so much, Chisera, here is mine whom the vultures seek.

(The women part to show the dead man stark in his blanket.)