n diff'ent kinds."

"We got to have pipes," was Frances's next suggestion.

"My papa's got 'bout a million pipes," boasted Jimmy, "but he got 'em
all to the office, I spec'."

"Father has a meerschaum."

"Aunt Minerva ain't got no pipe."

"Miss Minerva's 'bout the curiousest woman they is," said Jimmy; "she
ain't got nothing a tall; she ain't got no paint and she ain't got no
pipe."

"Ladies don't use pipes, and we can do without them anyway," said Lina,
"but we must have feathers; all Indians wear feathers."

"I'll get my mama's duster," said Jimmy.

"Me, too," chimed in Frances.

Here Billy with flying colors came to the fore and redeemed Miss
Minerva's waning reputation.

"Aunt Minerva's got a great, big buncher tu'key feathers an' I can git
'em right now," and the little boy flew into the house and was back in a
few seconds.

"We must have blankets, of course," said Lina, with the air of one whose
word is law; "mother has a genuine Navajo."

"I got a little bow'narruh what Santa Claus bringed me," put in Jimmy.

"We can use hatchets for tomahawks," continued the little girl. "Come
on, Frances; let us go home and get our things and come back here to
dress up. Run, Jimmy, get your things! You, too, Billy!" she commanded.

The children ran breathlessly to their homes nearby and collected the
different articles necessary to transform them into presentable Indians.
They soon returned, Jimmy dumping his load over the fence and tumbling
after; and the happy quartette sat down on the grass in Miss Minerva's
yard. First the paint boxes were opened and generously shared with
Billy, as with their handkerchiefs they spread thick layers of rouge
over their charming, bright, mischievous little faces.

The feather decoration was next in order.

"How we goin' to make these feathers stick?" asked Billy.

They were in a dilemma till the resourceful Jimmy came to the rescue.

"Wait a minute," he cried, "I'll be back 'fore you can say 'Jack
Robinson'."

He rolled over the fence and was back in a few minutes, gleefully
holding up a bottle.

"This muc'lage'll make 'em stick," he panted, almost out of breath.

Lina assumed charge of the head-dresses. She took Billy first, rubbed
the mucilage well into his sunny curls, and filled his head full of
his aunt's turkey feathers, leaving them to stick out awkwardly in all
directions and at all angles. Jimmy and Frances, after robbing their
mothers' dusters, were simila