The Rajah could make nothing of the matter, and at last he said: “I hear there is a merchant in this town who has a very wise parrot, wiser than most men are; let him be sent for to decide this business, for it is beyond me; we will abide by his decision.”
So Vicram Maharajah Parrot was sent for, and placed in the court of justice, to hear and judge the case.
First he said to the wood-cutter, “Tell me your version of the story.” And the wood-cutter answered, “Polly, Sahib, what I tell is true. I am a poor man. I live in the jungle, and earn my living by cutting wood and selling it in the bazaar. I never get more than two annas a day. One day I fell asleep and dreamed a silly dream—how I had become rich and married the Champa Ranee, and had given her as a wedding present a thousand gold mohurs; but it is no more true that I owed her a thousand gold mohurs, or have them to pay, than that I married her.”
“That is enough,” said Vicram Maharajah. “Now, dancing girl, tell us your story.” And Champa Ranee gave her version of the matter. Then the Parrot said to her, “Tell me now where was the house of this husband of yours, to which he took you?” “Oh!” she answered; “very far away, I don’t know how far, in the jungles.” “How long ago was it?” asked he. “At such and such a time,” she replied. Then he called credible and trustworthy witnesses, who proved that Champa Ranee had never left the city at the time she mentioned. After hearing whom, the Parrot said to her, “Is it possible that you can have the folly to think any one would believe that you would leave your rich and costly home to go a long journey into the jungle? It is now satisfactorily proved that you did not do it; you had better give up all claim to the thousand gold mohurs.”
But this the Nautch girl would not do. The Parrot then called for a money-lender, and begged of him the loan of a thousand gold mohurs, which he placed in a great bottle, putting the stopper in, and sealing it securely down; he then gave it to the Nautch girl, and said, “Get this money if you can, without breaking the seal or breaking the bottle.” She answered, “It cannot be done.” “No more,” replied Vicram Maharajah, “can what you desire be done. You cannot force a poor man, who has no money in the world, to pay you a thousand gold mohurs.
“Let the prisoner go free! Begone, Champa Ranee. Dancing girl! you are a liar and a thief; go rob the rich if you will, but meddle no more with the poor.”
All applauded Vicram Maharajah Parrot’s decision, and said, “Was ever such a wonderful bird!” But Champa Ranee was extremely angry, and said to him, “Very well, nasty polly; nasty, stupid polly! be assured before long I will get you in my power, and when I do, I will bite off your head!”
“Try your worst, madam,” answered Vicram; “but in return, I tell you this—I will live to make you a beggar. Your house shall be, by your own order, laid even with the ground, and you for grief and rage shall kill yourself.”
“Agreed,” said Champa Ranee; “we will soon see whose words come true—mine or yours;” and so saying, she returned home.
The merchant took Vicram Maharajah back to his shop, and a week passed without adventure; a fortnight passed, but still nothing particular happened. At the end of this time the merchant’s eldest son was married, and in honor of the occasion, the merchant ordered that a clever dancing-girl should be sent for, to dance before the guests. Champa Ranee came, and danced so beautifully that every one was delighted; and the merchant was much pleased, and said to her, “You have done your work very well, and in payment you may choose what you like out of my shop or house, and it shall be yours—whether jewels or rich cloth, or whatever it is.”