The marten is small and brown. His fur is worn by the best people, and he knows they think much of him. He could not understand why the white rabbit should think himself any better than a marten.
He met the white rabbit in the woods one day. They had a long talk, and the rabbit invited him to come to his heap of little dry bushes and eat dinner with him. He would answer any questions the marten would ask, because those who come out of a town always know a great deal. It is kind to tell what you know. [[261]]
Adobe Houses. Pueblo Children near Kiva
From a Photograph. (See account of “The Indians who live in Brick Houses.”)
[[262]]
The marten was seen by the gray rabbits to brush his fur and wash his face and paws very carefully. They watched him go into the white rabbit’s brush heap. The gray rabbits put their ears very far back and ran away. “The marten is wise, but he will know more when he comes home,” said the ones in gray.
The marten ate with the white rabbit. He thought they ate too fast, but it was not polite to say so. He tried to eat like the rabbit and watched his mouth. After a time the marten began his questions.
“What makes the slit in your lip?” asked the visitor.
“My family in town all ate with knives and forks. My knife slipped and cut my lip,” was the answer.