On the lake two birch bark canoes were moored to willow
stakes, and hanging on a line stretching from a tree to a pole a number
of girls' bathing suits flapped and danced in the air, but no human
being was yet in sight.
Suddenly there came a ripple of music from one of the pine trees, "Whee-
you, whee-you," a small bird with a spotted breast and a cream-buff coat
sang to itself and then began a whistling, ringing monotone that for a
moment silenced the other bird chorus.
A girl in a dark red dressing gown quietly opened a tent flap.
"There, the morning has come at last, for that is the voice of
'Oopehanka', the thrush. So after a week in the woods I really am
beginning to recognize some of the birds and the Indian names for them."
She clapped her hands softly together.
"Oh, Princess, do wake up and let us have a swim before any one else
wakens," she whispered imploringly.
Then disappearing inside her tent, she knelt by a bed of hemlock
branches covered with soft blue blankets. "Princess," she whispered
again.
A sleepy voice answered. "Polly child, please go back to bed, it must
be the middle of the night and I ache all over from carrying water and
digging trenches. Who could have supposed camping would be such a lot
of work!"
"Or such a lot of joy!" Polly laughed.
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