action of the white men prove, that various
sachems who had hitherto held aloof, even those of the Isles of
Capawack, now called Martha's Vineyard, sent to beg for a treaty of
peace and mutual support; and in the end Corbitant prayed the kind
offices of Massasoit, now restored to his kingdom, to make his
submission to the white men.

But though so fair in outward seeming, this peace was but a hollow one,
and one more lesson was needed before the Indians became in very truth
the friends and allies of the white men.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY OF NEW ENGLAND.

"Oh Priscilla, girl, what thinkst thou is toward now?" demanded Mary
Chilton, running down to the spring where her friend was sprinkling and
turning a piece of coarse linen spun and woven by her own hands for
domestic use; but straightening herself at the merry summons, her dark
eyes lighted with animation as she responded in the same tone,--

"The governor is fain to marry thee, and the elder is ready to give his
blessing. Is 't so?"

"Thou foolish girl! It's not at me Master Bradford looks oftenest, not
nigh as often as the captain looks at thee, nay but John Alden"--

"What is it! What's thy news! Speak quick or I'll sprinkle thee rather
than the linen!" and raising the wooden dipper Priscilla whirled it so
rapidly round her head that not a drop was spilled, while Mary shrieking
and laughing darted back and crouched behind an alder bush.

"Maids! Maids! Whence this unseemly mirth! Know ye not that the laughter
of fools is like the crackling of thorns under the pot, a sure sign of
the fire they are hasting to? The devil goeth about like a roaring
lion"--

"Sometimes methinks he seemeth more like an ass," murmured Priscilla in
Mary's ear, setting her off into convulsions of repressed laughter,
while her naughty tormentor looked demurely up the bank to the angular
figure defined against the evening sky and said,--

"We are beholden to you for the admonition, Master Allerton, and it must
be a marvelous comfort to you that Mary and Remember Allerton weep so
much oftener than they laugh."

"I would, thou froward wench, that I had the training of thee for a
while. Mayhap thou wouldst find cause for weeping"--

"Nay, I'm sure on 't. The very thought well-nigh makes me weep now,"
retorted Priscilla blithely, as the sour-visaged Councilor went on his
way, and Mary half frightened, half delighted, came forward saying,--

"Oh Priscilla