Thanksgiving on Thursday (2 page)

“Come on,” said Annie. She stood in the doorway to Jack's bedroom. “Let's check the woods.”

“But it's Thursday,” said Jack. “We're going to Grandmother's soon.”

“I know,” said Annie. “But I have a feeling the tree house might be back. I think Morgan might have sent us a new rhyme.”

Jack trusted Annie's feelings.

“Okay, but we'll have to be quick,” he said.
He threw his notebook and pencil into his backpack. He followed her downstairs.

“Be back soon!” Jack called to their parents.

“
Very
soon!” their dad said.

“Don't forget—it's Thursday,” said their mom. “We're leaving for Grandmother's at nine!”

“I know!” said Jack.

“We'll be back in ten minutes!” said Annie.

They hurried out of their house. They ran across their yard and up their street and into the Frog Creek woods.

Jack and Annie ran through light and shadow, until they stopped under the tallest oak.

“Yay!” said Annie.

“You were right!” said Jack.

High in the tree was the magic tree house.

Jack grabbed the rope ladder and started up. Annie was right behind him.

They climbed into the tree house. Sunlight slanted in through the window.

“Good, our gifts from our last trips are still here,” said Annie.

She pointed to the scrolls from Shakespeare's theater and the twig from the gorillas.

“Proof we found the magic of the theater and the magic of animals,” said Jack.

“Look,” said Annie. She pointed to a book lying in a dark corner. A piece of paper was sticking out of it.

Jack pulled out the paper.

“It's from Morgan,” he said.

He read:

Dear Jack and Annie,

Good luck on your third journey to find a special magic. This rhyme will guide you:

To find a special magic,

When work and toil are done,

Gather all together,

Turn three worlds into one.

                
Thank you,
                
Morgan

“So who do we gather with?” wondered Jack.

Annie held up the book. The painting on the cover showed a basket of corn on a wooden table. The title said
A Feast to Remember.

“We gather at a feast,” she said. She pointed to the cover. “I wish we could go there.”

“Hold on,” said Jack. “What kind of feast? Where and
when
?”

But the wind had started to blow.

The tree house started to spin.

It spun faster and faster.

Then everything was still.

Absolutely still.

Jack opened his eyes. Bright, golden sunlight poured into the tree house. The air felt crisp and cool.

Annie was wearing a long dress, a white cap, and an apron.

Jack wore a jacket with a frilly collar. He wore short pants, long socks, leather shoes, and a hat. His backpack was now a leather bag.

“I like your hat,” said Annie. “It's funny.”

“Yours, too,” said Jack.

“You look like a Pilgrim,” said Annie.

“So do you,” said Jack. “Oh, man. I bet we're in the time of the
Pilgrims
!”

He and Annie scrambled to the window.

The tree house had landed in a tall oak near the edge of a forest. Red and yellow leaves rattled in the cool breeze. Past the forest was a small village and past the village was the ocean.

“It
looks
like where the Pilgrims lived,” said Jack. “We studied it in school.”

He opened the research book and found a picture of the village by the sea. He read aloud:

“Yes!”
said Annie.

Jack read on:

“Plymouth?” said Annie. “That's where the first Thanksgiving was!”

“Oh, man … ” Jack smiled. “So
that's
the feast.”

“Wow,” said Annie. “My class put on a play about the first Thanksgiving.”

“Mine, too,” said Jack.

“I played Priscilla,” said Annie.

“I played a turkey,” said Jack.

“Now we'll get to meet the
real
Priscilla!” said Annie. “And Squanto! And Governor Bradford and Miles Standish! Come on!”

She started down the ladder.

“Wait. What will we say?” asked Jack.

“We'll just tell them hi and stuff,” said Annie.

“Are you nuts?” said Jack. He put the book into his bag. “They won't understand who we are! We need a
plan
.”

He slung the bag over his shoulder and hurried down the ladder after Annie.

“Listen, we need—” Jack started.

“I know, a
plan,
” said Annie. “But first let's get closer to the village and just watch.”

“Okay,” said Jack, “but we can't let anyone see us. We have to be careful and quiet.”

He and Annie started walking carefully through the woods. But they did not walk
quietly
. The autumn leaves crunched and crackled under their leather shoes.

“Shh!” said Jack.

“I can't help it,” said Annie. “You're doing it, too!”

“Then we have to stop,” said Jack. “Let's get behind that tree and watch from there.”

They crunched over to a tree at the edge of the woods. In the distance was a row of small log houses with steep thatched roofs.

Jack pulled out the book. He found the part about the village. Then he pushed his glasses up and read to himself:

“Hi, you,” Annie whispered. Jack looked up.

Annie was talking to a skinny yellow dog. The dog was sniffing a tree near them.

“Don't let him see us,” Jack whispered.

“Why?” said Annie.

The dog looked at them and barked.

“
That's
why!” said Jack.

The skinny dog barked again and again.

Two Pilgrim men ran from the other side of the houses. Then more Pilgrims appeared. They all looked in the direction of the barking dog.

“Oh, no!” said Jack. “Let's go back! We don't have a plan yet!”

He packed up his book and started away from the tree. Suddenly something tightened around his ankle. A tree branch snapped.

“AHHH!” Jack shouted as he was jerked up into the air.

“Jack!” cried Annie.

The skinny dog barked and jumped around happily.

Jack was hanging a few feet off the ground, with a rope around his ankle. His glasses and hat and bag had fallen to the ground. Jack felt the blood rushing to his head.

“I must have stepped into a hunting trap,” he said in a strangled voice.

“I'll free you,” Annie said. She tried to reach the rope, but it was too high.

Jack heard voices over the wild barking of the dog. A blur of people gathered around him and Annie.

“Oh, mercy!” a woman cried.

“We have caught a boy!” a man said.

The dog licked Jack's face.

“Help,” said Jack.

A burly man shooed the dog away, then grabbed Jack. Another cut the rope with a knife. Then they gently lowered Jack to the ground.

Jack sat in the leaves, feeling dizzy. He took the rope off his foot and rubbed his ankle.

“Here,” said Annie, handing Jack his glasses, hat, and bag.

He put them all on and stood up.
Now
he could see. About forty or fifty Pilgrims—men, women, and lots of children—stared at him and Annie. Some of the children were laughing.

The girls were dressed just like the women. The boys were dressed just like the men.

One person, though, looked different from everyone else in the crowd. His skin was brown. A deer skin hung over his shoulder.
His black hair was braided and had a feather in it.