"Tokee! she is pretty enough to win a twinkle
rom the evening star," remarks that smiling
personage.
"And what shall her name be?
"Winona, the First-born, of course. That
is hers by right of birth."
"Still, it may not fit her. One must prove
herself worthy in order to retain that honorable
name."
"Ugh," retorts the first grandmother, "she
can at least bear it on probation!"
"Tosh, tosh," the other assents.
Thus the unconscious little Winona has
passed the first stage of the Indian's christen-
ing.
Presently she is folded into a soft white doe-
skin, well lined with the loose down of cattails,
and snugly laced into an upright oaken cradle,
the front of which is a richly embroidered buck-
skin bag, with porcupine quills and deers' hoofs
suspended from its profuse fringes. This gay
cradle is strapped upon the second grand-
mother's back, and that dignitary walks off with
the newcomer.
"You must come with me," she says. "We
shall go among the father and mother trees, and
hear them speak with their thousand tongues,
that you may know their language forever.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175