“Be patient, she is young and she will learn.” Soft Feather was quite disturbed and each day she would ask Little Dove to come and begin to learn, but each day Little Dove would run off to play with the younger children while the older children were busy learning the work that goes with adult life. One day young Little Dove noticed an Indian boy that she had seen several times sitting by himself shaping a bow. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I am shaping a bow so that when I marry I will have a fine weapon with which to bring down the running deer.” For a long while Little Dove sat with the young boy, and nothing more was said. Finally the young brave rose and, bidding good-bye to Little Dove, started for his home. Little Dove was now twelve and each day she would see the young boy at work or play. Finally she went to her mother. “Mother, the young boy who has the pretty belt and bone-handled knife, who is he?” “That, my daughter, is your father’s best friend’s son, Straight Arrow. Why, do you like him especially?” “I like him a lot.” Several weeks passed, and one day as Little Dove was idling her time away dangling her feet in a stream, young Straight Arrow came to the water’s edge to wash some dirt from his arms and legs. He had been working in the garden with his father and now was going to clean up. Little Dove looked directly at him and said, “Are you planning on taking a wife very soon, Straight Arrow?” “I suppose so, Little Dove, for I am almost sixteen and my father said that I should be married now.” “I too am planning to be married soon,” said Little Dove. “Can you cook, or sew, or weave baskets?” “No, I cannot do those things. Will I have to?” “Well, I do not know about you but any girl that I marry must be able to do that and lots more. Well, I must be going now. It is time for lunch and I am very hungry and my sister is a very good cook.” With that, Straight Arrow left the side of the stream and he left behind a very angry Little Dove. Little Dove rushed home and told her mother what had happened. When she had finished blurting out her story, her mother said, “And now what do you want me to do about it, my Little Dove?” “Mother, will you teach me to weave baskets and sew and cook?” So the lessons began that very afternoon. The cooking was easy but when it came to the weaving, that was a little more difficult and it was a long time before Little Dove could weave a basket that looked like a basket.