JULY 10: The Papoose
“IN a quaint old city,” said daddy, “Indians come into town every Saturday morning with bright-colored baskets and beaded moccasins. They make these things and they make beaded bags and purses and little ornaments.
“They drive oxen instead of horses and the oxen move as slowly as if they did not care in the least if they ever got anywhere at all!
“The Indian women, or squaws as they are called, carry large baskets upon their heads in which are the things they have to sell, smaller baskets, purses and moccasins.
“Sometimes, too, they bring into the town flowers in the summer and in the autumn red berries—for they have a little village of their own out in the country. They are not wild at all and they would not dream of hurting any one.
“One day a little girl named Olive was sitting in her room reading when she heard the front door bell ring. She went downstairs and there was a little Indian girl, not any older than herself.
“‘Will the beautiful lady buy pretty basket?’ asked the little Indian girl.
“Olive was so pleased! She was not nearly big enough to be called‘lady,’ for she was still very young, and she knew quite well that she was not beautiful at all. She had freckles and a very big mouth, and she had only a little hair which was quite straight. And she was tall for her age and much too thin. But she had never been called beautiful before and though she knew the little Indian girl was quite wrong, still she was delighted.
“‘You are beautiful yourself,’ said Olive. For the Indian girl had long black hair and enormous dark eyes, wonderful dark skin with quite a good deal of color.
“‘Me beautiful?’ she asked. ‘Oh no, me not beautiful at all.’
“They each thought the other beautiful because each was so different.
“Olive bought some baskets for her mother and a little beaded purse for herself and then she said to the little Indian girl:
“‘Won’t you have some cocoa with me?’ The little Indian girl nodded her head and said: ‘Me like goodies!’
“So Olive and the little Indian girl went into Olive’s room and had a fine feast, using blue cups and saucers and eating bread and butter from little blue plates.
“‘Me tell you story?’ asked the little Indian girl. Olive was delighted.
“‘Please,’ she said. And the little Indian girl began:
“‘My brudder, he very big man. He tall and strong and plenty muscle he has.’ She bent her arms to show what she meant by muscle and she stood up with her arms above her to show how tall he was. ‘He build a boat,’ she went on, ‘a red boat—a canoe—and he take it along water so it never make a sound. He know how to paddle so! Never a sound!
“‘We have a river by our hut and he keep the boat by the bank, tied to an old tree. He take us all out in it, but what do you suppose he call that boat?’
“Olive couldn’t guess. She tried many names she thought the boat might be called, but they were all wrong. ‘Tell me,’ she begged.
“‘My brudder, he not call his boat after great strong man, or after warrior or hero; no, he call boat after our little baby brudder—what mudder call the little wee one. He call his boat the Papoose which mean an Indian baby—and he mean our baby. His boat which can go out into the big waves and not upset—which is so strong, like my brudder—it is named the Papoose after the baby!’ Her eyes were dancing with joy but it was time for her to be off.
“She put her basket on top of her head and started off. ‘Will your fadder bring you to see the big Papoose and the little Papoose?’ she asked as she left, and to Olive’s great delight her mother called out:
“‘We will take you some time.’ And both little girls left each other smiling and happy.”