So the sorrow was over and it was winter again, full of merriment and gayety, and lovers wooing young girls. Elise Renaud had been married and Sophie was quite a belle. Rosalie Pichou was the mother of two babies and had a comfortable home, though her husband traded with New Orleans and was often gone months at a time. They had to guard against the river pirates, who frequently sallied out from some peaceful-looking covert, hidden by woods or a bend in the stream. Occasionally there were Indians lying in wait, but the men always went well armed, and generally in quite a fleet, with the goods, the wheat and corn in barges or flat-bottomed boats, with several canoes for swiftness if they saw a chance of chastising their enemies. It was comparatively easy to go down the river, and as each boat had a mast and sails, they sped along beautifully in a favorable wind. But coming back was generally the trial, as the tide was against them. Sometimes two boatmen would walk along the river bank and pull a rope like the later towing line, while those on the boat steered and with long poles kept the prow from running into the bank and avoided the snags. But before Christmas all the boats that were expected had come in; the others would remain at New Orleans until more favorable weather. And this year there was to be a grand ball at the Government House before the king’s ball took place, for in the last trip up the river several young men had arrived. One was to be secretary to the Commandant. Two were on their way to Canada and would start when the spring opened. Sophie Renaud had run in, full of the news. “And you have so many pretty things to wear!” she cried half enviously. “Your uncle always seems to know, while you might as well ask a stick as to ask my father to bring you home anything worth while. And the pretty frock Aunt Barbe sent me last summer is all in shreds. Ma mère declares I ought to have fawnskin, like an Indian girl. And did you see Madame Marchand’s lovely feather cape on Sunday? It has a row of bluebird feathers around it that are dazzling.” Yes, Renée had seen the cape often while it was being made. Three years it had taken Wawataysee to collect the feathers. She had so many beautiful ideas. “It would set me crazy to do such a thing!” Renée laughed. Sophie always flew from one point to another, and delighted in attire. “Wawataysee is coming to see what will be most suitable,” returned Renée. “And shall I have to wear the old white silk Cousin Guion gave me? It has been washed, but mother has pressed it like new. And one of the young men is very handsome. I saw him as I passed the court-house. Laflamme I believe he is called, and I predict he will set all the girls’ hearts in a flame if he dances anything as he looks. I hope we all get a chance. And oh, what fun the king’s ball will be! I just hope I shall be a queen!”