But it was Iagoo who had carved the cradle of Hiawatha long ago, and who had taught him how to make his bow and arrows. And as he sat at the feast, old and ugly but very eager to tell of his adventures, Nokomis said to him: "Good Iagoo, tell us some wonderful story, so that our feast may be more merry," and Iagoo answered like a flash: "You shall hear the most wonderful story that has ever been heard since men have lived upon the earth. You shall hear the strange and marvelous tale of Osseo and his father, King of the Evening Star." XII THE SON OF THE EVENING STAR "SEE the Star of Evening!" cried Iagoo; "see how it shines like a bead of wampum on the robes of the Great Spirit! Gaze on it, and listen to the story of Osseo! "Long ago, in the days when the heavens were nearer to the earth than they are now, and when the spirits and gods were better known to all men, there lived a hunter in the Northland who had ten daughters, young and beautiful, and as tall as willow-wands. Oweenee, the youngest of these, was proud and wayward, but even fairer than her sisters. When the brave and wealthy warriors came as suitors, each of the ten sisters had many offers, and all except Oweenee were quickly married; but Oweenee laughed at her handsome lovers and sent them all away. Then she married poor, ugly old Osseo, who was bowed down with age, weak with coughing, and twisted and wrinkled like the roots of an oak-tree. For she saw that the spirit of Osseo was far more beautiful than were the painted figures of her handsome lovers. "All the suitors whom she had refused to marry, and they were many, came and pointed at her with jeers and laughter, and made fun of her and of her husband; but she said to them: 'I care not for your feathers and your wampum; I am happy with Osseo.' "It happened that the sisters were all invited to a great feast, and they were walking together through the forest, followed by old Osseo and the fair Oweenee; but while all the others chatted gayly, these two walked in silence. Osseo often stopped to gaze at the Star of Evening, and at last the others heard him murmur: 'Oh, pity me, pity me, my Father!' 'He is praying to his father,' said the eldest sister. 'What a shame that the old man does not stumble in the path and break his neck!' and the others all laughed so heartily at the wicked joke that the forest rang with merriment.