The old woman carefully sweeps up the room and puts all the sweepings in a bowl which she throws over the mesa, while another woman sprinkles water on the floor, saying, "clouds and rain," the two magic words which are often on the lips and in their thoughts. Now the baby is waked from his blissful sleep, bathed in soapsuds, and rinsed with a mouthful of water applied in the manner of a Chinese laundryman. This time it is not ashes but white corn meal with which he is rubbed, and all the company rub suds on his head with ears of corn dipped in the wash bowl. The godmother puts meal on the baby's face and neck, and, waving an ear of corn, prays over the mother and child. This is the prayer: "May you live to be old, may you have good corn, may you keep well, and now I name you Samiwiki," ("roasting ears"), or she bestows any name which strikes her fancy. All the other relatives give the baby a name and it is a matter of chance which one survives. The naming of the baby being ended, the dedication of the child to the sun is next in order. As a preliminary, the baby is introduced to the hard lot of the cradle. The cradle may be a bent stick interlaced with twigs, a cushion of frayed juniper bark placed on it and a bow attached to the upper end to protect the baby's face. A small blanket or two form the covering. The mother tucks the little fellow in, placing his arms straight along his sides and finishes by lashing him round and round with a sash until he resembles a miniature mummy. The godmother has not been idle meanwhile. She has taken meal and made a white path out the door, and at a signal from the father, who has been anxiously watching for sunrise from a neighboring housetop, she quickly takes up the cradle and carries it low down over the path of meal, out to where the sun may be seen. The women have put on their clean mantas, the mother has arrayed herself in her embroidered cotton wedding blanket, and they stand in the clear dawn, a picturesque group of sun-worshippers. The godmother draws away the blanket from the baby's face, holds a handful of meal to her mouth, and says a short prayer over it and throws it toward the sun; so also does the mother, and the ceremony is over. The assembly then turns to the _nukwibi_, _pigame_, and other good things, for among the Hopi a feast always follows a ceremony, just as enlightened people enjoy a good dinner after church; but before they begin the repast, a pinch of the food must be taken out and thrown by the ladder or into an inner room as an offering to the sun. The baby, being guest of honor, is first to eat of the food, though the act would seem a mere pretense. Directly he is laid aside to resume his broken slumbers while all assembled fall to with keen appetites. Soon the guests arise to depart, and receiving their "Indian gifts" return to their homes.