as washday.

Then there was young John Howland, who in mid-ocean fell overboard but
was quick enough to catch hold of a trailing rope. Perhaps after
dinner he invited Elizabeth Tilley, whom he afterward married, to sail
over to Clarke's Island and return by moonlight.

With them, it may be, went John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, whose
love story is so sweetly told by Longfellow.

One proud mother, we may be sure, showed her bright-eyed boy,
Peregrine White.

And so the fun went on. In the daytime the young men ran races, played
games, and had a shooting match. Every night the Indians sang and
danced for their friends; and to make things still more lively they
gave every now and then a shrill war whoop that made the woods echo in
the still night air.

The Indians had already learned to love and fear Captain Miles
Standish. Some of them called him "Boiling Water" because he was
easily made angry. Others called him "Captain Shrimp," on account of
his small size.

Every morning the shrewd captain put on his armour and paraded his
little company of a dozen or more soldiers; and when he fired off the
cannon on Burial Hill the Indians must have felt that the English were
men of might thus to harness up thunder and lightning.

During this week of fun and frolic it was a wonder if young Jack
Billington did not play some prank on the Indians. He was the boy who
fired off his father's gun one day, close to a keg of gunpowder, in
the crowded cabin of the _Mayflower_.

The third day came. Massasoit had been well treated, and no doubt
would have liked to stay longer, but he had said he could stay only
three days. So the pipe of peace was silently passed around.

Then, taking their presents of glass beads and trinkets, the Indian
king and his warriors said farewell to their English friends and began
their long tramp through the woods to their wigwams on Mount Hope Bay.

On the last day of this Thanksgiving party the Pilgrims had a service
of prayer and praise. Elder Brewster preached the first Thanksgiving
sermon. After thanking God for all his goodness, he did not forget the
many loved ones sleeping on the hillside.

He spoke of noble John Carver, the first governor, who had died of
worry and overwork.

Nor was Rose Standish forgotten, the lovely young wife of Captain
Miles Standish, whose death was caused by cold and lack of good food.

And then there was gentle Dorothy, wife of Governor Bradford, who had
fallen ove