ll, they ought to," declared Meg. "Doesn't Dot look cunning in her
suit?"

"Heap big Injun chief," announced Bobby, prancing about in his suit.

"Let's get captives and hide them in the tent," suggested Meg, who
usually did most of the planning for their games.

"Where'll we get 'em?" asked Bobby doubtfully. "Jud's bigger than we
are."

"No, we can't capture Jud," agreed Meg.

"Wow! wow! Whoop!" shouted Twaddles, tumbling down the steps and
giving his best Indian yell as he came.

"Ducks and chickens might be captives," said Meg slowly, frowning at
the interruption of Twaddles.

Ordinarily Meg was a good little girl and not given to mischief, but a
spice of naughtiness seemed to be in all the four little Blossoms on
this unfortunate day.

"Let's get the ducks, first," said Bobby. "That's a great idea, Meg.
Come on, Twaddles, we have to capture the ducks."

They found the beautiful white birds swimming lazily about the
artificial duck pond in the chicken yard, and they didn't seem to want
to be captured at all. The children finally succeeded in driving
them, twenty of them, that is, into the tent.

"Somebody will have to stay and see they don't come out when we get
the chickens," said Meg. "Dot's too little--she'll let 'em out. I'll
do it, if you'll stay when we get the chickens in, and let me capture
the turkeys, Bobby."

Bobby assented, and Meg stayed behind at the tent while Dot, Twaddles
and Bobby went after the chickens.

If you have ever tried to drive a hen into a certain place, you will
know how very stupid she can be. The children were hot and cross
before they had twenty-eight white leghorn hens penned in the tent
with the ducks.

"They make an awful lot of noise," said Bobby nervously. "Jud will
hear them."

"As soon as they find it's dark they'll think it's night," answered
Meg comfortably. "Now I'm going after turkeys."

But the only turkey she could find was the lame one that lived in the
chicken yard and was tame enough to allow herself to be picked up.

"Aren't they good and quiet?" said Meg with satisfaction, as she poked
the patient turkey hen through the tent flaps and heard the soft
mutterings of the ducks and hens, who thought it was night and time to
go to sleep.

Just as the Indians had the last captive snugly fastened in, Peter,
with Terry harnessed to the "market wagon," a light wagon that was
used to take the butter and eggs over to town in, came down the drive
from the b