He stirred a little, and sighed, and the air grew warm, and a soft breeze blew. The beautiful maiden on the prairie swayed in the breeze, and her green robe fluttered. “She is very beautiful,” cried Shawondasee. “I will send her a kiss.” So with his softest breath he sent a kiss to the maiden of the yellow hair, and again she bowed and swayed. Still Shawondasee did not leave his home in the South Land to visit the maiden. He sent soft breezes to blow upon her, and the breezes carried sighs and kisses to her; but Shawondasee himself remained at home. Day after day he wished that he might win the maiden with the golden hair. Day after day he looked toward the North where she stood and waited for his coming. Then one morning there was a change. As Shawondasee looked out upon the prairie he saw that the beautiful golden hair of the maiden he loved had turned to snowy white. For once he was startled. “What have I done?” he cried. “I have put off going to her, and now I have lost her. Her golden beauty has changed to a beauty which is not of this earth. It is now too late!” Shawondasee heaved a mighty sigh as he spoke--a sigh that stirred all the winds of the South Land--and behold! the air was filled with the silvery white locks of the Dandelion maiden. [Illustration: “DAY AFTER DAY ... SHE STOOD AND WAITED FOR HIS COMING”] Far and wide they floated, and wherever one fell, there a new flower sprang up, and it was called the Dandelion. The old grandmother had finished her story and her moccasin at the same time. “And so Shawondasee never married the Dandelion maiden?” questioned Leelinau. “No,” answered the grandmother. “He was far too fat and lazy to win a maiden of spirit. But then,” she added, “it was no great loss to either. No Indian of good sense would wed a maiden with yellow hair.” ORIGIN OF THE VIOLET (Iroquois) THREE wonderful deeds had the Indian youth performed: three deeds for which the older men of the tribe gave him honor. First of all he had gone forth with his bow and arrow and, taking true aim with a strong and steady hand, had pierced the heart of the great heron flying overhead: the great heron that was the enemy of his people. Often had the bird caught the children of the tribe and carried them away to devour them. And now the young brave, who was little more than a lad, had slain the great heron. On the second occasion he had gone forth alone, and sought out the cave of the witches. And from the cave he had brought away the roots which alone would cure his people of the great sickness which we call the plague. The journey was long and difficult, and food was scarce, but only the witches knew the secret of the roots. When the young brave returned with the medicine and the people were made well, the old men of the tribe gave him honor, and the women of the tribe blessed him.