Whereupon he ran in first, but after a time, finding the Bride did not follow, he put his nose out again, saying testily, “Well, madam, why don’t you follow? Don’t you know it’s rude to keep your husband waiting?”
“My good sir,” laughed the handsome young Bride, “I can’t squeeze into that little hole!”
The Rat coughed; then after a moment’s thought he replied, “There is some truth in your remark—you are overgrown, and I suppose I shall have to build you a thatch somewhere, For to-night you can rest under that wild plum tree.”
“But I am so hungry!” said the Bride ruefully.
“Dear, dear! everybody seems hungry to-day!” returned the Rat pettishly; “however, that’s easily settled—I’ll fetch you Some supper in a trice.”
So he ran into his hole, returning immediately with an ear of millet and a dry pea. “There!” said he, triumphantly, “isn’t that a fine meal?”
“I can’t eat that!” whimpered the Bride; “it isn’t a mouthful; and I want rice pottage, and cakes, and sweet eggs, and sugar drops. I shall die if I don’t get them!”
“Oh, dear me!” cried the Rat in a rage, “what a nuisance a bride is, to be sure! Why don’t you eat the wild plums?”
“I can’t live on wild plums!” retorted the weeping Bride; “nobody could; besides, they are only half ripe, and I can’t reach them.”
“Rubbish!” cried the Rat; “ripe or unripe, they must do you for to-night, and to-morrow you can gather a basketful, sell them in the city, and buy sugar drops and sweet eggs to your heart’s content!”