"The sagamore has made a new law," said the Etchemin woman, as they came in sight of the fort.
Madockawando's daughter looked at the unguarded bastions, and the chimneys of Pentegoet rising in a stack above the walls.
"What new law has the sagamore made?" she inquired.
"He says he will no more allow a man to put away his first and true wife, for he is convinced that God does not love inconstancy in men."
"The sagamore should have kept his first wife himself."
"But he says he has not yet had her," answered the Etchemin woman, glancing aside at the princess. "The sagamore will not see the end of the sugar-making to-night."
"Because he sits alone every night by his fire," said Madockawando's daughter; "there is too much talk about the sagamore. It is the end of the sugar-making that your mind is set on."
"My husband is at the camps," said the Etchemin plaintively. "Besides,
I am very tired."
"Rest yourself, therefore, by tramping far to wait on your husband and keep his hands filled with warm sugar. I am tired, and I go to my lodge."
"But there is a feast in the camps, and nobody has thought of putting a kettle on in the village. I will first get your meat ready."