Both of them took such good care of Momotaro that soon he was the stoutest and bravest boy of all that country-side. He was a credit to them, you may believe. The neighbours nodded their heads and they said, “Momotaro is the fine young man!”
“Mother,” says Momotaro one day to the old woman, “make me a good store of kimi-dango” (which is the way that they call millet dumplings in those parts).
“What for do you want kimi-dango?” says his mother.
“Why,” says Momotaro, “I’m going on a journey, or as you may say, an adventure, and I shall be needing the kimi-dango on the way.”
“Where are you going, Momotaro?” says his mother.
“I’m off to the Ogres’ Island,” says Momotaro, “to get their treasure, and I should be obliged if you’d let me have the kimi-dango as soon as may be,” he says.
So they made him the kimi-dango, and he put them in a wallet, and he tied the wallet to his girdle and off he set.
“Sayonara, and good luck to you, Momotaro!” cried the old man and the old woman.
“Sayonara! Sayonara!” cried Momotaro.
He hadn’t gone far when he fell in with a monkey.