Margaret Hardenbroeck not only won a husband, Captain Patrus de Vries, a wealthy ship-owner, but won fame as well. On the death of her husband she continued his business, and established a line of ships, the first packet line that crossed the Atlantic. Her ability as a business woman evidently won her not only fame, but a husband, for she soon married again, a Mr. Frederick Phillipse, and in later days became the owner of the Phillipse Manor, so well known during the days of the Revolution.
Cornelia Lubbetse became Mrs. Johannes de Beyster, while her daughter Marie, the wife of three husbands, became known as the wealthiest woman in the settlement. She was also noted for her industry, filling a great kos (chest) with beautiful linen tied in packages with colored tape and marked by herself at the time of her first marriage. She also carried on a thrifty business trading with ships between New Amsterdam, Connecticut, and Virginia, as well as being the mother of “The Lady of Petticoat Lane,” who married a younger brother of her third husband.
Anna Stuyvesant, Rachel Hartjers, and Madame Van Corlear were all in due turn presented to the hostess, as well as Grietje Janssen, who was known in the old days as a double-tongued woman, having won fame as being the gossip of the burgh.
But the merry chatter and low-pitched laughter of these would-be historic maidens was suddenly stilled, as a strange, grotesque figure was seen in the doorway gazing at the assembled company with an odd little smile on its bedaubed face.
A murmur of surprise and astonishment caused eyes and mouths to open in curious wonder, as Annetje, although as bewildered as her neighbors, made her way to the door to welcome the unknown intruder.
As Nathalie approached the uncouth, blanketed savage it emitted a strange sound; some claimed it was a grunt, while others said it was a groan. The girl stared a moment in startled inquiry and then a smile parted her lips, which was quickly repressed as in a quick glance she noted the eyes heavily underlined with black paint, the brown dyed skin, the red patched cheeks much besmeared with grease, and the black snake-like strings of hair that straggled from beneath a derby hat, several sizes too small for the head.
As the redskin strode with measured gait to the ladies, the painted lips opened, and an excellent imitation of an Indian warwhoop broke forth with startling intensity. Little Miss New York jumped nervously, Madame New Amsterdam started back in surprise, but Mrs. Morrow and Nathalie burst into laughter as they both cried, “Why—it’s Edith!”
Yes, it was the Sport, who seeing she was the sensation of the moment took off her derby hat and with a low bow to hostesses, in guttural tone exclaimed, “No, me no Edith, me Indian squaw from Mana-ha-ta!”
This unexpected announcement created no little astonishment, and the girls flocked around her with exclamations of wonder and surprise. As they began to ply her with questions she cried triumphantly, “Ah, girls, I fooled you that time, for I guess you had all forgotten about the Indian women of Manhattan, who always wore their husband’s hats.”
“Oh, girls,” cried Nathalie quickly, “the joke is on me, for I had forgotten, as Edith says, all about these Indian squaws.”