Pocahontas was enchanted. She sat first at John Smith's feet, then climbed up on his knee, where she listened spellbound to his tales of Londontown, especially of the Tower where the little princes with corn silk hair had pined away and been murdered by their wicked old uncle. "Must be like Uncle Opechancanough," she shuddered.
"Poor things, they didn't have a Pocahontas to save them."
"Who is left yet in the tower?"
"There is a noble knight named Raleigh who started us coming over on this side. He flung down his velvet cloak across a mud puddle for Queen Bess to tread on. I would do the same for you, little Princess, only I have no velvet cloak. I am a poor man."
"Very poor?" she wondered solicitously.
"So poor, that once I went begging. They hold that against me down in Jamestown."
"As if you could help it! Do you go hungry now?"
"Ravenously. We eat parched and molded corn."
"Ugh. I shall bring you rich dishes from Powhatan's table, and corn for your men, if they do what you tell them."
"This is exactly what they will not do. They had me in chains until the secret orders were revealed saying: 'You must put Smith on the council!'"