Magbolotó was in despair, for he knew that to hull one hundred bushels of rice would take him not less than one hundred days, and the grandmother required him to do it in one day; so he cried like a child at his misfortune. The king of the rats heard him crying, and at once came to help him.
"Magbolotó, Magbolotó, why are you weeping?" asked King Rat.
"Ask me nothing, if you cannot help me."
"Relate the matter, and I will."
Magbolotó told him his trouble. Then the king of the rats called his subjects together and ordered them to gnaw the hulls from the rice. In an instant the rice was all hulled.
The next morning Magbolotó made ready to depart with his wife, but the grandmother stopped him again, saying:—
"You may not go until you have chopped down all the trees you see on that mountain over there."
There were more than a million trees, so Magbolotó was in great trouble, and as usual he began to weep.
The king of the wild boars heard him and came up, saying:—
"Magbolotó, Magbolotó, why are you weeping?"