Meanwhile the little one has been made to know some of the trials of life. On the first day of his entrance into this arena, his head has been washed in soaproot suds and his diminutive body rubbed with ashes, the latter, it is alleged, to kill the hair, and his mother must also undergo the ceremonial head washing, which must be repeated on the fifth, tenth, and fifteenth days with the amole root, which is the only soap known to the Hopi. Besides, the mother must never be touched by the direct rays of the sun during the first five days, which explains the blanket often hung before the doorway; nor may she put on her moccasins, for fear of ill luck.
At last, on the evening of the nineteenth day, comes the paternal grandmother, who, by custom, is the mistress of ceremonies, a fact which seems a little strange, for though the child takes its descent from the mother, the father's people name the baby and conduct the ceremony. The grandmother sees to the fire and attends to the stew of mutton with shelled corn, called _nukwibi_, and the sweet corn pudding, called _pigame_, cooking for the feast in the morning. While she is bustling about, boiling a tea of juniper twigs, placing a few stones in the fire to heat for use in the morning, and pounding soaproot, the relatives are bringing plaques of basket-work heaped with fine meal as presents to the new-born. These the mother receives with the woman's words of thanks, _eskwali_--the men's word being _kwa kwi_--and invites the guests to partake of food. It is late when the relatives depart, and the mother busies herself with getting ready the return presents, adding, perhaps, with a generous hand, more than was given, while the object of all this preparation is sleeping oblivious, hidden beneath his blanket.
At the first glint of dawn the godmother arises, renews the fire, and draws with fine meal four short parallel lines on the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room, and on the lines on the floor puts a prayer feather tied to a cotton string, and above that places a bowl of amole suds. The mother kneels by the bowl, her long black hair falling in the foam, and the godmother dips an ear of corn in the suds four times and touches each time the head of the mother with the end, then bathes her head. Perhaps others of the guests who have come early for the ceremony use the suds in turn with an idea of getting some imaginary benefit; the practical benefit of cleanliness is obtained at any rate. The mother's arms and legs are bathed in the juniper tea; the heated stones placed in a cracked bowl and some of the tea thrown over them, form an impromptu sweat bath, while she stands, wrapped in a blanket, over the steam. This finishes the part of the ceremony designed for purification.