So the next morning the Rat climbed up into the plum tree, and nibbled away at the stalks till the fruit fell down into the Bride’s veil. Then, unripe as they were, she carried them into the city, calling out through the streets—
“Green plums I sell! green plums I sell!
Princess am I, Rat’s bride as well!”
As she passed by the palace, her mother, the Queen, heard her voice, and running out, recognized her daughter. Great were the rejoicings, for everyone thought the poor Bride had been eaten by wild beasts.
In the midst of the feasting and merriment, the Rat, who had followed the Princess at a distance, and had become alarmed at her long absence, arrived at the door, against which he beat with a big knobby stick, calling out fiercely, “Give me my wife! Give me my wife! She is mine by a fair bargain. I gave a stick and I got a loaf; I gave a loaf and I got a pipkin; I gave a pipkin and I got a buffalo; I gave a buffalo and I got a bride. Give me my wife! Give me my wife!”
“La! son-in-law! What a fuss you do make,” said the wily old Queen through the door, “and all about nothing! Who wants to run away with your wife? On the contrary, we are proud to see you, and I only keep you waiting at the door till we can spread the carpets, and receive you in style.”
Hearing this, the Rat was mollified, and waited patiently outside while the cunning old Queen prepared for his reception, which she did by cutting a hole in the very middle of a stool, putting a red hot stone underneath, covering it over with a stew-pan lid, and then spreading a beautiful embroidered cloth over all. Then she went to the door, and receiving the Rat with the greatest respect, led him to the stool, praying him to be seated.
“Dear! dear! how clever I am! What bargains I do make, to be sure!” said he to himself as he climbed on to the stool. “Here I am, son-in-law to a real live Queen! What will the neighbors say?”
At first he sat down on the edge of the stool, but even there it was warm, and after a while he began to fidget, saying, “Dear me, mother-in-law, how hot your house is! Everything I touch seems burning!”
“You are out of the wind there, my son,” replied the cunning old Queen; “sit more in the middle of the stool, and then you will feel the breeze and get cooler.”
But he didn’t! for the stewpan lid by this time had become so hot that the Rat fairly frizzled when he sat down on it; and it was not until he had left all his tail, half his hair, and a large piece of his skin behind him, that he managed to escape, howling with pain, and vowing that never, never, never again would he make a bargain!