gold of the girls' gala petticoats, the crimson of the hibiscus, the pale yellow pandanus, and the green of the garlands of trailing foliage, catching at limb or breast, make up a half Bacchic, half idyllic South Sea pastoral.
After they have rested and admired the gardens, the crowd of carriers engaged for the occasion repair to the owner's plot. There the yams are dealt out and measured with a standard basket. For each basketful, a small petal is torn off a cycas leaf. Each tenth petal is left standing, to mark the tithe. For a big plot, several cycas leaves may have to be used. The carriers then proceed to the recipient's village, men and women mixing together, with jokes and laughter. The owner supplies them with dainties on the road: cocoa-drinks to quench their thirst, betel-nut as a stimulant, succulent bananas to refresh them. The village is entered at high speed, the men run ahead, pandanus petals streaming from their armlets, and the women follow closely. As they come among the houses, a collective litany is shouted, the fore-runner repeating a series of meaningless traditional words very quickly at the top of his voice: "Bomgoy, yakakoy, siyaloy . . ." while the whole crowd thunder back in unison a loud and strident "Yah." Then in front of the recipient's yam-house, they build the yams into a circular heap, quite as fine as the one made before in the garden (pl. 29). It is only after a few days that the next ceremonial event takes place, when the vegetables are removed to the inside of the yam-house.
Returning now to the sociological and economic importance of the annual marriage endowment, it has very
