Marjorie at Seacote

"I wish I could do it," said Ruth; "but I couldn't write a rhyming thing at all."

"Well, that's all there is in The Jolly Sandboy this week," said King. "I didn't write any myself, and the things you others gave me, I've saved for next week. Now, shall we go and celebrate Pocahontas' birthday?"

"Is it really her birthday?" asked Ruth.

"No, we're just pretending it is. But you see, poor Poky never had her birthday celebrated; I mean,—not legally, like Washington,—so we're going to give her a chance."

The Sand Club trooped up to the house, and found Cousin Jack waiting for them. He was a little surprised to see Hester, but he greeted her pleasantly, and Hester looked so meek and mild, one would hardly believe she had a high temper at all. A wigwam had been built on the lawn, and though it was only a few poles covered with blankets, it looked very Indian and effective.

The Maynards had contrived costumes for all, and in a few moments the girls had on gay-fringed skirts and little shawls, with gaudy headdresses, and the boys had a nondescript Indian garb, and wonderful feathered headpieces, that hung grandly down their backs like Big Chiefs.

Also they had pasteboard tomahawks, and Cousin Jack taught them a war-whoop that was truly ear-splitting.

"First," said Mr. Bryant, "we'll all sing the Blue Juniata, as that is a pretty Indian song, and so, sort of appropriate to Pocahontas."

So they all sang it, with a will, and the song of "The Indian Girl, Bright Alfarata," was, in a way, a tribute to Pocahontas.

"Now," Mr. Bryant went on, "some one must tell the story of Pocahontas. Harry, will you do it?"

But the Sand Crab was too shy to speak in public, so Cousin Jack asked Ruth to do it.

"I don't know it very well," said Ruth, "but I guess it was like this: Captain John Smith was about to be tommyhawked all to pieces by admiring Indians. As the fell blows were about to fell, up rushes a beautiful Indian maiden, with her black hair streaming in the breeze. 'Fear thou not!' she said, wildly; 'I will save thee!' Whereupon she flang herself upon him, and hugged him till he couldn't be reached by his tormentors. The wild Indians were forced to desist, or else pierce to the heart their own Pocahontas, beloved daughter of their tribe. So they released Captain John Smith, and so Pocahontas married Captain John Rolfe instead, and they lived happy ever after. Hence is why we celebrate her birthday."

Ruth clearly enjoyed the telling of this tale, and threw herself into it with dramatic fervor.

The others listened, enthralled by her graphic recital and thrilling diction.

"My!" exclaimed Midget, as she finished, "I didn't know you knew so many big words, Ruth."

"I didn't, either," said Ruth, calmly; "they sort of came to me as I went along."

"Well, that's just as smart as writing poetry," declared King, and Ruth was greatly pleased at the compliments.

"Now, my dear young friends," Cousin Jack said, by way of a speech, "the exercises will now begin. As you know, we are celebrating the birthday of a noble Indian Princess. Therefore, our sports or diversions will all be of an Indian character. First, we will have an Indian Club Drill."

He produced Indian clubs for all, the boys' being heavier ones than the girls.

These were new to the Maynards, but Cousin Jack soon taught them how to use them, and instructed them in a simple drill.

Hester learned more quickly than Marjorie, for she was more lithe and agile, and swung her clubs around with greater ease. Ruth seemed to know instinctively how to use them, which was partly due to her proficiency in fancy dancing. But they all learned, and greatly enjoyed the interesting exercise.

Cousin Jack presented the children with the clubs they used, and they promised to practise with them often.

"It'll be good for you growing young people," said Mr. Maynard, "and you can form a sort of a Pocahontas Club."

Then he had a gramophone brought out to the lawn, and they whisked their clubs about to inspiriting Indian music.

"Now, I dare say you're tired," said Cousin Jack, "for Indian club exercise is a strain on the muscles. So sit in a circle on the grass, and we'll all smoke pipes of peace and swap stories for a while."

The "pipes of peace" turned out to be pipes made of chocolate, so they were all willing to "smoke" them.

"Mine's a pipe of pieces!" said Midget, as she broke the stem in bits, and ate them one by one.

The others followed her example, and the pipes had disappeared before the story-telling fairly began.

But Cousin Jack told them some thrilling Indian tales, and so interested were his hearers that they gathered close about him, and listened in absorbed silence.

"Was that true, Cousin Jack?" asked King, after an exciting yarn.

"Well, it's in a story-book written by James Fenimore Cooper. You're old enough to read his books now, and if I were you children, I'd ask my parents to buy me some of Cooper's works."

"I'm going to do that," cried Hester, her eyes dancing at the thought of reading such stories for herself. "I never heard of them before."

"Well, you're young yet to read novels, but Cooper's are all right for you. You might read one aloud in your Sand Club."

"Yes, we will!" said King. "That'll be fine. Then one book would do for us all. Or we might each get one, and then lend them around to each other. My, we're getting lots of new ideas from our celebration. Indian club exercises and Cooper's stories are worth knowing about."

"And now," said Cousin Jack, "if you're rested, suppose we march along Indian File, and see if we can come across an Indian Meal."

"Ho, ho!" laughed King, "I don't want to eat Indian meal!"

"We'll see what it is before we decide," said Midget, judicially. "What is Indian File, Cousin Jack?"

"Oh, that only means single file, or one by one. Not like the Irishman who said to his men, 'March togither, men! be twos as far as ye go, an' thin be wans!' I want you to go 'be wans' all the way."

So, in single file, they followed Cousin Jack's lead to the wigwam, which they hadn't yet entered. He turned back the flap of the tent, and there was room for all inside. On a table there there were eight Indian baskets, of pretty design. On lifting the covers, each was found to contain an "Indian Meal."

The meal was a few dainty little sandwiches and cakes, and a peach and a pear, all wrapped in pretty paper napkins, with an Indian's head on the corner.

Exercise had given the children good appetites, and they were quite ready to do full justice to the "Indian Meal."

Sarah brought out lemonade, and later ice cream, so, as Midget said, it really was a party after all.

Of course, the children kept the baskets and the pretty napkins as souvenirs, and when the guests went home, they said they were glad they didn't know the real date of Pocahontas' birthday, for it might have been in the winter, and then they couldn't have had nearly as much fun.

"And it's lucky we decided on this day," said Cousin Jack, after the children had gone, "for to-morrow Ethel and I go back to Cambridge."

"Oh, Cousin Jack, not really!" cried Midget, in dismay.

"Yes, kiddy; we've changed our summer plans suddenly, and we're going to Europe next week. So we leave here to-morrow. And sorry, indeed, are we to leave our Maynard friends."

"I'm sorry, too," said Midget, "awfully sorry, but I'm glad we've had you down here as long as we have. You've been awful good to us, Cousin Jack."

"You've been good to me, Mehitabel. And when I wander through the interesting places abroad, I shall write letters to you, and when I come home again, I'll bring you a souvenir from every place I've been to."

"Well, you're just the dearest Cousin Jack in all the world!" said Midget, and she gave him a big hug and kiss to corroborate her words.

"And you're just the dearest Mopsy Midget Mehitabel!" he said, returning her caress.