wd.

The days that followed were filled with strange and new enjoyments.
Mantuamakers and milliners brought their wares, and Lady Rebecca soon
began to distinguish what was best in what they had to offer. She drove
in the parks, was rowed down the river in gorgeous barges, had her
portrait painted in a gold-trimmed red robe with white collar and cuffs
and a hat with a gold band upon it, received the great ladies who came
out of curiosity to see for themselves what an Indian princess might be
like. All of them had only kind things to say about "the gentle Lady
Rebecca."

The Bishop of London was in especial interested in this heathen
noblewoman who had become a Christian. He was her escort on many
occasions and decided to give a great ball in her honour.

"What will they do, Master Bishop?" she asked of the dignitary who had
grown as fond of this new lamb in his flock as if she were his own
daughter. "What will all the ladies do at a ball?"

"They will dance."

"Dance!" exclaimed Pocahontas in amazement, who had never seen any other
kind of dancing than that which she herself, clad in scant garments, had
been wont to practice before she became the wife of an Englishman. This,
she now knew, was not of a character suited for English ladies. So, some
days later, watching the stately measures and the low reverences of
ladies and their cavaliers, Pocahontas wondered what pleasure they could
find in such an amusement.

"Perchance, though," she suggested to the good Bishop, "it is some
religious ceremony which I know not."

The Bishop laughed so at this idea that Pocahontas could not help
laughing, too, though she did not understand what was funny in her
speech.

After the dance was over the ladies came to be presented to Lady
Rebecca. They did not know what they ought to talk to the stranger
about; but one of them in a dull mouse-colored tabby, with sad-colored
ribbons, remarked languidly:

"What a fine day we are having."

"Fine!" exclaimed Pocahontas, looking up at the grey sky through the
window, which to be sure had not dropped any rain for twenty-four hours,
"but the sun is not shining. I should think here in England ye would
wear your gayest garments to brighten up the landscape."

"Then the Lady Rebecca doth not like our country?" queried the dame in
grey.

"Ah, but yea. In truth it pleaseth me mightily, all but the dark skies.
And they tell me that is because of the smoke of the city."

Then Pocahonta