xes.

The squaws were also all busy out of doors, though they chatted in
groups as eagerly as if their energy were being expended by their
tongues only. Many were at work scraping deerskin to soften it before
they cut it into robes for themselves or into moccasins for the men.
Here and there little puffs of smoke that seemed to come from beneath
the earth testified to the dinners that were being cooked under heated
stones.

Pocahontas was seated upon a small hill overlooking the village. As the
chief's daughter, it was only on special occasions and as an honored
guest, that she joined the knots of squaws or maidens chatting before
the wigwams. But she was not alone now in solitary grandeur. She was
accustomed to surround herself, when she desired company, with a number
of younger girls of the tribe who obeyed her, less because she was the
daughter of the feared werowance, than because she had a way with her
that made it pleasant to do as she willed and difficult to oppose her.
Cleopatra, her youngest sister, sat beside her, trying to coax a
squirrel on the branch above them to come down and eat some parched corn
from her hands.

Over Pocahontas's knees was spread a robe of raccoon skin, smooth,
painted in a wide border. Along the edge of this she was embroidering a
deep pattern of white beads made from sea shells. A basket of reeds
beside her was full of other beads, large and small, white, red, yellow
and blue.

"What doth thy pattern mean, Pocahontas?" asked the girl nearest her.
"As it is not one any of our mothers hath ever wrought before, thou must
have a meaning for it in thy mind." "Yes," assented the worker, "it
differeth from all other patterns because my father differeth from all
other werowances. It meaneth this that I sing:

"Powhatan is a mighty chief,
As long as the river floweth,
As long as the sky upholdeth,
As long as the oak tree groweth,
So long shall his name be known.

"See, this line is for the river, this one that goeth up straight is the
oak tree and this long line all wavy is the heavens. I make this for my
father because I am so proud of him."

"But why, Pocahontas," asked another of her companions, "dost thou not
use more of these red beads? They are so like fire, like the blood of an
enemy; why dost thou refer the white?"

Pocahontas held her bone needle still for a moment and her face wore a
puzzled expression.

"I cannot answer thee exactly, Deer-Eye, since