“Missi Alice is here,” she cried out to them joyously as she took each by the hand and led them into the cool shelter under her father’s roof tree. The midshipmen glanced about for Alice. The big room was deserted, but from behind the tapa curtain came much merry laughter, and finally Alice appeared dragging with her two very shy young native girls. “We’re going to make Kava Fa’a Kapua,”[15] she said as she seated herself native fashion, “and then we’re going out to ‘Jumping Rock’ for a swim. If you care to go we shall be delighted to have you join us,” she told the midshipmen. Avao brought out a small piece of kava root, holding it out for Alice to inspect. “I’m the alii,”[16] Alice said. “I’m supposed to judge if the root is of good quality before the Tapau chews it.” “Chews it!” Phil exclaimed. “I thought it was to be a drink.” “So it is,” Alice replied, thoroughly enjoying the depth of Phil’s ignorance of the Kapuan custom. “Avao is the ‘Tapau’; she will chew the kava root; look!” she exclaimed admiringly. The midshipmen turned their eyes toward Avao. Her cheeks were already bulging as she sat stoically ruminating the root while one of the other girls fed her from time to time an additional sliver. For fully fifteen minutes Avao was busily engaged in reducing the root to a pulpy mass which finally she held in her hand and then put into the kava bowl beside her. Next came the washing. Pure water was poured carefully over the mass and Avao daintily cleansed her hands and then gracefully squatted before the bowl. While one girl poured water slowly into the bowl, Avao kneaded the material vigorously. The liquid soon began to assume a greenish tinge, and the midshipmen involuntarily shuddered at the idea of drinking the concoction. “Do you know, kava never agrees with me,” Phil said in an aside, in order not to hurt the feelings of their native friends, “especially in the morning.” “I never could see anything in it either,” Sydney answered. “I’d much prefer a lemonade or a drink of cocoanut milk.” Alice overheard the remarks and smiled wickedly. “This is probably the last real cup of kava you’ll get,” she said. “The chewing has gone out of fashion since the fomais[17] have taught the Kapuans about the spread of germs. We got this up especially for your benefit.” “It was awfully good of you,” Phil acknowledged miserably, “but really I don’t believe I need any kava this morning.” Avao was now working a strainer[18] to and fro in the liquid. The grace of her motions was delightful to see and elicited much admiration from the midshipmen. Finally, with a last fleck of the strainer, she dropped it into the bowl and clapped her shapely hands. All present took up the clapping. It was the sign that the kava was ready to be served. The midshipmen dreaded the ordeal. “I feel like a kid about to be given a dose of bad medicine,” Sydney whispered.