Now, while she was washing the clothes, what should she see but a fine ripe peach that came floating down the stream? The peach was big enough, and rosy red on both sides.
“I’m in luck this morning,” said the dame, and she pulled the peach to shore with a split bamboo stick.
By-and-by, when her good man came home from the hills, she set the peach before him. “Eat, good man,” she said; “this is a lucky peach I found in the stream and brought home for you.”
But the old man never got a taste of the peach. And why did he not?
All of a sudden the peach burst in two and there was no stone to it, but a fine boy baby where the stone should have been.
“Mercy me!” says the old woman.
“Mercy me!” says the old man.
The boy baby first ate up one half of the peach and then he ate up the other half. When he had done this he was finer and stronger than ever.
“Momotaro! Momotaro!” cries the old man; “the eldest son of the peach.”
“Truth it is indeed,” says the old woman; “he was born in a peach.”