ated her first
question: "What are we going to do about it, I should like to know?"

"I wonder if Thanksgiving Day could not be put off a week," suggested
Mistress Belding, who had a good head, and was even reported to give
such advice to her husband that he always thought best to heed it.

"Such a thing was never heard of!" cried Mistress Elliott.

"But there's no law against it," insisted Mistress Belding boldly. "By
a week from the set day there will surely be some means of getting
about the country, and then we can have a Thanksgiving that's worth
the setting down to."

After a long talk the good women separated in some doubt, but as
Squire Belding and Mr. Ely were two of the three selectmen, they were
soon acquainted with the drift of the afternoon's discussion. The
result of it all is thus chronicled in the town records of Colchester:

"At a legal town-meeting held in Colchester, October 29,
1705, it was voted that WHEREAS there was a Thanksgiving
appointed to be held on the first Thursday in November, and
our present circumstances being such that it cannot with
convenience be attended on that day, it is therefore voted
and agreed by the inhabitants as aforesaid (concluding the
thing will not be otherwise than well resented) that the
second Thursday of November aforesaid shall be set aside for
that service."

This proceeding was, on the whole, as the selectmen had hoped that it
would be, "well resented" among the Colchester people, but there was
one household in which there was rebellion at the mandate. In the
great sanded kitchen of Deacon Esteem Elliott pretty, spoilt Prudence
Ann was fairly raging over it.

"I had set my heart on being married on Thanksgiving Day," she sobbed,
"And here it won't be Thanksgiving Day at all! And as for putting off
a wedding, everybody knows there is no surer way of bringing ill luck
down than that! I say I won't have it put off! But we can't have any
party with no molasses in town! Oh, dear! I might as well be married
in the back kitchen with a linsey gown on, as if I were the daughter
of old Betty, the pie woman! There!"

Then the proud girl would break into fresh sobs, and vow vengeance
upon the selectmen of Colchester. She even sent her father to
expostulate with them, but it was of no use. They had known all along
that the Elliotts did not want the festival day put off, but nobody in
Colchester minded very much if the Ell