Long ago at Kyakima lived a girl who spent all her time herding turkeys. She never did anything for her sisters. Nobody would comb her hair. It was all in a snarl. Her sisters would tell her to cook. They would say, “Why do you so love the turkeys?” She did not answer. After her sisters had cooked, she would take the bread and go out and tend the turkeys.

At Matsaki they were dancing lapalehakya (lapa>lapapoawe, “parrots;” lahakya, “tell”).

They were dancing for the third time, when the turkey girl said, “Younger sisters [ahani]!”

The turkeys said, “What?”

The girl said, “I want to go and see the dance.”

The turkeys said, “You are too dirty to go.”

She repeated, “I want to go.” The turkeys said, “Let us eat the lice out of her hair!”

Then each ate lice from her hair.

Then an elder-sister (kyauu) turkey clapped her wings, and down from the air fell women’s moccasins (mokwawe). Then her younger sister (ikina) clapped her wings, and down from the air fell a blanket dress (yatone). Then another elder sister clapped her wings, and down from the air fell a belt (ehnina). A younger sister clapped her wings, and a pitone fell down. An elder sister clapped, and a blanket (eha) fell down. The little younger sister (an hani tsanna) clapped, and a hair belt (tsutokehnina) fell down.

An kyauu said, “Is this all you want?”

The girl said, “Yes.” She put on the moccasins and the ehayatonana.

The turkeys put up her hair in a queue.

She said to the turkeys, “I will come back before sundown.”

She went to her house, and made a little cloth bag, and filled it with meal. Then she went on to Matsaki.

Her sisters said, “Has she gone to the dance?”

One said, “Yes.”

– “She is too dirty to go.”

After she reached Matsaki, as she stood there, the dance director (otakya mosi) asked if she would dance.

She said, “Yes.” She danced all day. When the sun set, she finished dancing, and ran back to the turkeys.

The turkeys had said, when she did not come, “We must not go on living here. Our sister does not love us.”

When she arrived, they were not there. They were on top of a little hill, singing:

Kyana to to

kyana to to

kyana to to ye

uli uli uli to to to to.

They flew down to Kyakima. They went on as fast as they could until they came to turkey tracks (tonateanawa). There they drank at the spring. Their tracks were from north, south, east, west. After they drank, they flew to Shoakoskwikwi. They reached a high rock. They sat on it, and sang:

Kyana to to

kyana to to

kyana to to ye

uli uli uli to to to to.

When awan kyauu arrived, the turkeys were not there. She saw their tracks. She followed the tracks on a run. At Tonateanawa she saw where they had drunk. She ran on. Then she lost their tracks. She went back to her house. The turkeys had flown to Shoakoskwikwi, to the spring there. That is why at Shoakoskwikwi you see wild turkeys. The girl came back to her house crying.

Her sisters said, “Don’t cry! You did not return on time. You did not love them.”

The girl stayed and cooked for her sisters. Thus it was long ago.

Source: Elsie Clews Parsons, “Pueblo-Indian Folk-Tales, Probably of Spanish Provenience,” Journal of American Folklore vol. 31, no. 120 (April - June 1918), pp. 234-35.

Parsons’ source: “Tsatiselu of Zuni.”

Note by Parsons: “This is, I suggest, a Cinderella tale, the pattern in regard to the sisters being confused.”