"What does he make to treat Mass o' suet, Constance? What is Mass o' suet; pudding, Constance?" asked Damaris, anxiously, knitting her brow.
Constance's laugh rang out, good to hear. She leaned forward impetuously and snatched off her little sister's decorous cap, rumpled her sleek fair hair with both hands pressing her head, and kissed her. Priscilla Mullins laughed with Constance, looking sympathetically at her, but some of the other girls looked a trifle shocked at this demonstration.
"Massasoit is a great Indian chief, small lass; he is coming in a day or so, and Father and Mr. Winslow will make a treaty with him; that means that Massasoit will promise to be our friend and to protect us from other Indian tribes, he and his Indians, while we shall promise to be true friends to him. It is a great good to our colony, and we are proud, you and I--and I think your mother, too"--Constance glanced with amusement at Priscilla--"that our father is chosen for the colony's representative."
"Do you suppose that the Indians know whether cloth or velvet is grander? Those we see like leather and paint and feathers," said Priscilla. "I hold that our men should overawe the savages, but----"
"And I hold that brides should be bonny, let it be here, or in England," Constance interrupted her. "What will you wear on the day of days, Priscilla, you darling?"
"Well, I have consulted with Mistress Brewster," admitted Priscilla, regretfully. "I did think, being a woman, she would know better how a young maid feeleth as to her bridal gown than her godly husband. But she saith that it is least of all becoming on such a solemn occasion to let my mind consider my outward seeming. So I have that excellent wool skirt that Mistress White dyed for me a good brown, and that with my blue body----"
"Blue fiddlesticks, Priscilla Mullins!" Constance again interrupted her, impatiently. "You'll wear nothing of the kind. I tell you it shall be white for you on your wedding day, with your comely face and your honest eyes shining over it! I have a sweet embroidered muslin, and I can fashion it for you with a little cleverness and a deep frill combined, for that you are taller than I, and more plump to take up its length, there's no denying, Prissy dear! We'll not stand by and see our plantation's one real romance end in dyed brown cloth and dreariness, will we, girls?"