m, and he had believed
that the old chief would appear ridiculous decked out in mock finery,
but he admitted to himself that such was far from being the case.

Then the feast was brought on and the Englishmen again did full justice
to the Indian dishes. Pocahontas came and sat beside Smith.

"Welcome, little Sister," he said, "and how dost thou like thy father's
new robes?"

"He appeareth strange to me," she answered, "but he will not wear them
long. It is beautiful, that cloak, but he can paint his flesh as fine a
color with pocone, and it will not be so warm nor so heavy."

Smith laughed.

"Wouldst thou not like to try to wear clothes such as our women wear?
Perchance thou mayst try what they are like before long, for soon we
shall be seeing white squaws come over on the ships."

"Do white men have squaws, too?" asked Pocahontas in astonishment.

"For a surety. Didst thou think Englishmen could live forever without
wife or chick at their hearths?"

"And thou, my Brother," she queried eagerly, "will thy squaw and thy
children come soon?"

"I have none, Matoaka; my trails have led through so many dangers that I
have not taken a squaw."

"But a squaw would not fear danger if thou couldst take her with thee,
or if not, she would wait in thy lodge ready to welcome thee on thy
return. She would have soft skins ready for thy leggings, new mats for
thee to sleep upon; she would point out all the stores of dried venison
she had hung on her tent-pole while thou wert gone, and fresh sturgeon
would she cook for thee and prepare walnut-milk for thy thirst."

"'Tis a pretty picture thou drawest, Matoaka," he answered, yet he did
not laugh at it. "Often I feel lonely in my wigwam and I wonder if some
day I shall not bring a wife into it."

"There would be none who would refuse thee," answered the girl simply.

Smith did not take in the significance of her words, yet his thoughts
were of her. Suppose he should throw in his lot altogether with this new
country and take for wife this happy, free child of the aboriginal
forest? It was only a passing thought. He had not time to consider it
further, for Newport had risen and gave the signal for them to start on
the return march to Jamestown. He rose, too, and bade farewell to
Pocahontas.

During the feasting Powhatan had been thinking over what he meant to do.
Gravely he presented to Captain Newport a bundle of wheat ears for
spring planting; then with the utmost dignity,