Once inside, she realized that the stranger’s coming had been expected; probably Opechanchanough had sent runners ahead whom she had not chanced to see.  All the chiefs were gathered there waiting and there also sat the Queen of Appamatuck, the ruler of an allied tribe.  She noticed that her father, in the centre of a raised platform at the other end of the lodge, had on his costliest robe of raccoon skin, the one she had embroidered for him.  All the chiefs were painted, as were the squaws, their shoulders and faces streaked with the precious pocone red.  She regretted that she had not had time to put on her new white buckskin skirt and her finest white bead necklace, since this was such a gala occasion.  On the other side of Powhatan sat one of his squaws, and her brothers and her uncles Opitchapan and Catanaugh squatted directly before him.  She herself stood against the wall nearest to the mother of her sister Cleopatra.  She wished she had tried to bring in Claw-of-the-Eagle with her.  How interested he would have been; but it was not likely that he would manage to get past the guards now, since there were so many of his elders who must be excluded for lack of room.

While she was still looking around to see who the lucky spectators were, the entrance to the lodge was darkened and a great shouting went up from all the braves as Opechanchanough strode in, followed by his prisoner.

Powhatan sat in silence until Smith stood directly before him, and then he spoke: 

“We have waited many days and nights to behold thee, wayfarer from across the sea.”

Smith, looking up at him, saw a finely built man of about sixty years, with grizzled hair and an air of command.  He smiled to himself at the strangeness of his fancy’s play, but the air of this savage chieftain, this inborn dignity of one conscious of his power, he had seen in but one other person—­Good Queen Bess!

“I too have listened to many voices which have told of thy might, great chief,” he answered, speaking the unfamiliar words slowly and distinctly.

Then in the pause that followed the Queen of Appamatuck came forward and held out to Smith a bowl of water for him to wash his hands in.  Pocahontas leaned eagerly forward to see whether the water would not wash off some paint from his hands, leaving them the color of her own, for might it not be, she had questioned Claw-of-the-Eagle, that these strangers were only painted white?  But even after Smith had wiped his fingers upon the turkey feathers the Queen handed to him, they remained the same tint as his face.

At the command of Nautauquas, the slaves began to bring in food for the feast which preceded any discussion of moment.  An enemy, be he the bitterest of an individual or of the tribe, must never be denied hospitality.  Baskets and gourds there were filled with sturgeon, turkey, venison, maize bread, berries and roots of various kinds, and earthern cups of pawcohiccora milk made from walnuts.  Powhatan had motioned Smith to be seated on a mat beside the fire, and taking the first piece of venison, the werowance threw it into the flames as the customary sacrifice to Okee.  Then he was served again, and after him each dish was offered to the prisoner.