"Get up, lazy bones!" cried a merry voice in my ear, and arousing myself, I looked up into the arch face of my lady as, dimpled and smiling, she stood before me.
The sun was high in the heavens, and Margaret, an apron of deerskin about her slender waist, was getting breakfast. I had never seen her do this before. Either Manteo or myself always prepared the meals, but now with flushed face she tripped back to where a great haunch of venison browned over the fire on a spit, and with a look of anxiety, beautiful to see, turned it over to brown upon the other side.
"See how industrious I am this morning," she cried laughingly. "I am getting thy breakfast while thou dost sleep. 'Go to the ant, thou sluggard'!"
"'Tis the first time that thou hast ever done such a thing," I said lightly, as I bent over her, and catching both white hands, stick and all in mine, despite her laughing resistance, kissed her rosy lips.
"'Twas because thou wouldst not let me, sir," she answered saucily. "Now seat thyself and behold me cook."
I threw myself upon the ground opposite, and watched her as she ran to and fro, now putting a stick upon the fire, now turning the venison again. Finally she stated with an air of wisdom, that breakfast was done. And so we sat down together. Manteo had gone out for a little scout before breakfast, she told me.
"Venison from such a hand were thrice as sweet," I said, as she helped me to a generous slice.
"'Tis not sweet at all," she answered with a laugh. "So now, gallant sir, thy compliment is shattered."
"Say, then, is thrice more palatable," I replied, "and thou hast a compliment, perhaps less flowery, but more delicate and flattering," and I bowed to her mockingly.