Having done with their most needfull cloathings and ornamentall deckings; may it please you to feast your eyes with their belly-timbers, which I suppose would be but stibium to weake stomacks as they cooke it, though never so good of it selfe. In Winter-time they have all manner of fowles of the water and of the land, & beasts of the land and water, pond-fish, with Catharres and other rootes, Indian beanes and Clamms. In the Summer they have all manner of Sea-fish, with all sorts of Berries. For the ordering of their victuals, they boile or roast them, having large Kettles which they traded for with the French long since, and doe still buy of the English as their neede requires, before they had substantiall earthen pots of their owne making. Their spits are no other than cloven sticks sharped at one end to thrust into the ground; into these cloven sticks they thrust the flesh or fish they would have rosted, behemming a round fire with a dozen of spits at a time, turning them as they see occasion. Some of their scullerie having dressed these homely cates, presents it to his guests, dishing it up in a rude manner, placing it on the verdent carpet of the earth which Nature spreads them, without either trenchers, napkins, or knives, upon which their hunger-sawced stomacks impatient of delayes, fals aboard without scrupling at unwashed hands, without bread, salt, or beere: lolling on the Turkish fashion, not ceasing till their full bellies leave nothing but emptie platters: they seldome or never make bread of their Indian corne, but seeth it whole like beanes, eating three or foure cornes with a mouthfull of fish or flesh, sometimes eating meate first, and cornes after, filling chinkes with their broth. In Summer, when their corne is spent, Isquoutersquashes is their best bread, a fruite like a young Pumpion. To say, and to speake paradoxically, they be great eaters, and yet little meate-men; when they visit our English, being invited to eate, they are very moderate, whether it be to shew their manners, or for shamefastnesse, I know not; but at home they will eate till their bellies stand south, ready to split with fulnesse; it being their fashion to eate all at some times, and sometimes nothing at all in two or three dayes, wise Providence being a stranger to their wilder wayes: they be right Infidels, neither caring for the morrow, or providing for their owne families; but as all are fellowes at foot-ball, so they all meete friends at the kettle, saving their Wives, that dance a Spaniell-like attendance at their backes for their bony fragments. If their imperious occasions cause them to travell, the best of their victuals for their journey is Nocake, (as they call it) which is nothing but Indian Corne parched in the hot ashes; the ashes being sifted from it, it is afterward beaten to powder, and put into a long leatherne bag, trussed at their backe like a knapsacke; out of which they take thrice three spoonefulls a day, dividing it into three meales. If it be in Winter, and Snow be on the ground, they can eate when they please, stopping Snow after their dusty victuals, which otherwise would feed them little better than a Tiburne halter. In Summer they must stay till they meete with a Spring or Brooke, where they may have water to prevent the imminent danger of choaking. With this strange viaticum they will travell foure or five daies together, with loads fitter for Elephants than men. But though they can fare so hardly abroad, at home their chaps must walke night and day as long as they have it. They keepe no set meales, their store being spent, they champe on the bit, till they meete with fresh supplies, either from their owne endeavours, or their wives industry, who trudge to the Clam-bankes when all other meanes faile. Though they be sometimes scanted, yet are they as free as Emperours, both to their Country-men and English, be he stranger, or neare acquaintance; counting it a great discourtesie, not to eate of their high-conceited delicates, and sup of their un-oat-meal'd broth, made thicke with Fishes, Fowles, and Beasts boyled all together; some remaining raw, the rest converted by over-much seething to a loathed mash, not halfe so good as Irish Boniclapper.