"I used what you gave me," said Nattie.
"Stupid," was the response; "were you obliged to put it all into one basket? There was red enough to put into three, and bring three sixpences instead of one. Go away."
Black-bird gave the basket an angry toss. Nattie picked it up, disheartened. She had felt so proud and pleased with her success a few moments before.
"You didn't show me how," she said; "you only gave me the willows and told me to make a basket. I did as well as I could."
"Who said you didn't?" was the response.
"Can't I do anything more?"
"Yes," answered the old squaw; "you can come here and string beads for my moccasin work, if you wish."
Nattie was glad of the task. She had often longed to be employed with the bright beads, but had never dared to touch them. The old squaw gave her three long, black horse-hairs,
