Thanksgiving on Thursday

by Mary Pope Osborne

  Here’s what kids have to say to

  Mary Pope Osborne, author of

  the Magic Tree House series:

  WOW! You have an imagination like no other.—Adam W.

  I love your books. If you stop writing books, it will be like losing a best friend.—Ben M.

  I think you are the real Morgan le Fay. There is always magic in your books.—Erica Y.

  One day I was really bored and I didn’t want to read … I looked in your book. I read a sentence, and it was interesting. So I read some more, until the book was done. It was so good I read more and more. Then I had read all of your books, and now I hope you write lots more.—Danai K.

  I always read [your books] over and over … 1 time, 2 times, 3 times, 4 times … —Yuan C.

  You are my best author in the world. I love your books. I read all the time. I read everywhere. My mom is like freaking out.—Ellen C.

  I hope you make these books for all yours and mine’s life.—Riki H.

  Teachers and librarians love

  Magic Tree House® books, too!

  Thank you for opening faraway places and times to my class through your books. They have given me the chance to bring in additional books, materials, and videos to share with the class.—J. Cameron

  It excites me to see how involved [my fourth-grade reading class] is in your books … I would do anything to get my students more involved, and this has done it.—C. Rutz

  I discovered your books last year … WOW! Our students have gone crazy over them. I can’t order enough copies! … Thanks for contributing so much to children’s literature!—C. Kendziora

  I first came across your Magic Tree House series when my son brought one home … I have since introduced this great series to my class. They have absolutely fallen in love with these books! … My students are now asking me for more independent reading time to read them. Your stories have inspired even my most struggling readers.—M. Payne

  I love how I can go beyond the [Magic Tree House] books and use them as springboards for other learning.—R. Gale

  We have enjoyed your books all year long. We check your Web site to find new information. We pull our map down to find the areas where the adventures take place. My class always chimes in at key parts of the story. It feels good to hear my students ask for a book and cheer when a new book comes out.—J. Korinek

  Our students have “Magic Tree House fever.” I can’t keep your books on the library shelf.—J. Rafferty

  Your books truly invite children into the pleasure of reading. Thanks for such terrific work.—S. Smith

  The children in the fourth grade even hide the [Magic Tree House] books in the library so that they will be able to find them when they are ready to check them out.—K. Mortensen

  My Magic Tree House books are never on the bookshelf because they are always being read by my students. Thank you for creating such a wonderful series.—K. Mahoney

  Dear Readers,

  When I did research for Thanksgiving on Thursday, I learned something I hadn’t known before. I learned that what we generally think of as the first Thanksgiving—the 1621 feast with the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag people of Plymouth Bay—was not a day set aside to give thanks. It was a three-day festival to celebrate a good harvest. During that time, the Pilgrims and Wampanoag shared many meals. Even so, we traditionally think of this harvest festival as the first Thanksgiving. More than two hundred years later, in 1863, President Abraham Lincoln designated the last Thursday in November as America’s national day of Thanksgiving.

  I love doing the research for Magic Tree House books because I always learn something new. I hope you’ll learn lots of new things, too, when you visit the “first Thanksgiving” with Jack and Annie.

  All my best,

  Text copyright © 2002 by Mary Pope Osborne

  Illustrations copyright © 2002 by Sal Murdocca

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  www.randomhouse.com/magictreehouse

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Osborne, Mary Pope.

  Thanksgiving on Thursday / by Mary Pope Osborne; illustrated by Sal Murdocca. — 1st ed. p. cm.—(Magic tree house; #27) “A stepping stone book.”

  SUMMARY: Jack and Annie travel in their magic tree house to the year 1621, where they celebrate the first Thanksgiving with the Pilgrims and Wampanoag Indians in the New Plymouth Colony.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-89484-8

  [1. Thanksgiving Day—Fiction. 2. Pilgrims (New Plymouth Colony)—Fiction. 3. Plymouth (Mass.)—History—17th century—Fiction. 4. Time travel—Fiction.]

  I. Murdocca, Sal, ill. II. Title. PZ7.081167 Th 2002 [Fic]—dc21 2002010907

  Random House, Inc. New York, Toronto, London, Sydney, Auckland

  RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks and A STEPPING STONE BOOK and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc. MAGIC TREE HOUSE is a registered trademark of Mary Pope Osborne; used under license.

  v3.0

  Cover

  Dear Readers

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  1. What Feast?

  2. Shh!

  3. Wow?

  4. We Fish!

  5. Eels and Clams

  6. Good Work

  7. Arm Exercises

  8. The Feast

  9. Good Day

  10. Thankful

  More Facts

  Special Preview of Magic Tree House #28: High Tide in Hawaii

  For Bill, LuAnn, Mickey, and Alan—

  Thanksgiving friends for many years

  One summer day in Frog Creek, Pennsylvania, a mysterious tree house appeared in the woods.

  Eight-year-old Jack and his seven-year-old sister, Annie, climbed into the tree house. They found that it was filled with books.

  Jack and Annie soon discovered that the tree house was magic. It could take them to the places in the books. All they had to do was point to a picture and wish to go there. While they are gone, no time at all passes in Frog Creek.

  Along the way, Jack and Annie discovered that the tree house belongs to Morgan le Fay. Morgan is a magical librarian of Camelot, the long-ago kingdom of King Arthur. She travels through time and space, gathering books.

  Jack and Annie have many exciting adventures helping Morgan and exploring different times and places. In Magic Tree House Books #25–28, they will learn the art of magic … .

  “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:

  In 1620, a group of 102 passengers sailed from England to America on a ship called the Mayflower. Many of the people on board wanted freedom of religion. They wanted to worship God in their own way—not the way the king of England made them. Others wanted to find a new life in a new land. Today, we call all the people who sailed on the Mayflower Pilgrims.

  “Yes!” said Annie.

  Jack read on:

  The Pilgrims wanted to settle near New York. But a storm blew their ship north. They landed in a bay on the coast of what is now Massachusetts. Six years before, Captain John Smith had explored the coast. He had named the bay Plymouth.

  “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:

  The Pilgrims brought chickens, geese, goats, and sheep from England. They brought seeds to plant, and they knew how to make traps to catch wild animals for food. But they could not have survived without the help of a Wampanoag (wom-puh-NO-ag) Indian named Squanto. Squanto taught them how to grow corn.

  “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.

  Is that Squanto? Jack wondered. The Wampanoag Indian who helped out the Pilgrims?

  Two Pilgrim men stepped forward. One had a smile on his face. The other was frowning.

  “Good day!” the friendly-looking man said. “Who art thou?”

  “I’m Annie,” said Annie. “This is my brother, Jack
. We come in peace.”

  “Welcome to Plymouth Colony,” said the man. “I am Governor Bradford. This is Captain Standish.”

  Captain Standish kept frowning. He carried a long gun over his shoulder.

  “Oh, wow!” said Annie.

  “Wow?” said Captain Standish.

  “Wow?” whispered others, as if they didn’t understand.

  “I’ve just heard a lot about you,” said Annie. She looked around. “Is Priscilla here?”

  “Shhh!” whispered Jack.

  “I am Priscilla,” said a young woman. She looked about seventeen or eighteen. Her face looked weary, and her eyes were sad.

  “Hi,” said Annie shyly. “I was you.”

  “Annie,” warned Jack.

  “Thou was me?” Priscilla asked. She sounded puzzled.

  “Never mind my sister,” said Jack. “She’s nuts.”

  “Nuts?” repeated Priscilla.

  “Nuts?” whispered others.

  “Oh, brother,” said Jack, with a nervous laugh.

  “Oh, brother?” repeated Priscilla.

  Annie giggled.

  “Um. Never mind,” said Jack. “That’s just how we say things at home.”

  “And where is thy home?” Captain Standish asked. He didn’t sound as friendly as Governor Bradford or Priscilla.

  “Um, we live in a village up north,” said Jack. “Our parents sent us here to, uh”—he remembered something from their research book—“to learn how to grow corn.”

  “But how and when did your family come to America?” the captain asked.

  Jack was worried. Now that he had started making up a story, he couldn’t back out. Luckily, he remembered something else from their book.

  “We sailed to America with Captain John Smith,” he said, “when he was exploring the coast. Annie and I were babies then.”

  “Ah, indeed?” said Governor Bradford.

  Jack nodded. “Indeed,” he said.

  “I believe Squanto knew Captain John Smith when he was in Plymouth,” said Captain Standish. “Perhaps he remembers thee.”