“Madam, whenever you please to make choice of a husband, I will make you the greatest fortune in the world.”

Then he gave freely to his fellow servants. Even to his enemy, the cook, he gave a hundred pounds.

Richard Whittington was now a rich man. He laid aside his poor clothes, and was dressed well and handsomely. He had grown strong and tall in service, and was indeed a fine man to look upon.

He was well behaved and of a good mind and heart. Mr. Fitzwarren made him known to the other merchants, and let him see how business was carried on. Then, seeing that he was as honest and good as he was rich, he told Whittington that he might have his daughter in marriage.

At first, Dick felt himself unworthy of Mistress Alice. But he saw that she looked kindly on him, and he remembered how good she had been to him from the beginning. So he made bold to ask Mistress Alice to be his wife, and they had a grand wedding.

After the wedding was over, Mr. Fitzwarren asked him what he meant to do, and Mr. Whittington said he would like to be a merchant. So the two became partners, and grew to be very rich.

Rich as he was, this merchant never forgot that he was once poor Dick Whittington. The promise of Bow Bells came true, and three times he was chosen Lord Mayor of London. He fed the hungry, and cared for the poor.

When he was Lord Mayor of London the third time, it was his duty to receive King Henry V and his queen at Guildhall, which was the Mayor’s palace. It was just after a famous war with France, which England had won.

The king, at the feast, made the lord mayor a knight, so that now he was Sir Richard Whittington. There was a very pleasant fire on the hearth at the time. It was made of choice wood. Mace and other spices were mixed with the wood. The king praised the fire, and Sir Richard said,—“I will make it still more pleasant.” At that he threw upon the flames one piece of paper after another. They were the written promises of the king, to pay back money lent to him by London merchants, when he was carrying on the war. Sir Richard had bought them for sixty thousand pounds. That was the way he paid the king’s debt, for now there was nothing to show that the king owed anything.

This is the story of Dick Whittington and his cat. How much is true, and how much was made up, I do not know, for what happened took place five hundred years ago.