"But I do love thee even as thou art, my Wildenai," he told her with the
careless assurance of one much older speaking to a child. "Is not a wild
rose sweet as any garden bloom? Nay, methinks 'tis often sweeter!"
Again he laughed and the little princess laughed with him now, for into
her heart at his words had come a happiness so unlooked for and so
wildly sweet as wholly to bewilder her. Quickly she rose, struck by a
sudden thought, and running to the farthermost corner of the cavern she
brushed aside a pile of leaves and lifted some stones, disclosing at
length a box fashioned from the choicest cedar. Out of it, while the
Englishman watched with wondering eyes, she drew a garment made of
creamy doeskin, deeply fringed and trimmed besides with strings of
wampum, the polished fragments of abalone shells and many-colored beads.
Silently she brought it to him and when he touched it admiringly, for
the dress was beautiful. "It is my marriage robe," she told him gravely.
That night, while the rain tapped softly at her tepee, the princess
dreamed of a wondrous land beyond the sea where proudly she walked by
her white chief's side and fair women with braided, golden hair spoke
kind words of welcome, smiling at her out of sweet blue eyes.
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