He lived with a beautiful daughter, a grown-up girl. When he returned she observed that he was melancholy, and asked the reason, on which the Paṇḍitayā informed her of the King’s command, and said that it was impossible to teach a horse to speak, and that he must place his affairs in order, in preparation for his death.
“Do as I tell you,” she said, “and your life will be saved. When you go to the King on the appointed day, and he asks you if you are able to teach his horse to speak, you must answer, ‘I can do it, but it is a work that will occupy a long time. I shall require seven years’ time for it. You must also allow me to keep the horse by me and ride it, while you will provide food for it.’ The King will agree to this, and in the meantime who knows what may happen?”
The Paṇḍitayā accepted this wise advice. He appeared before the King at the end of the week, and prostrated himself. The King asked him, “Are you able to teach my white horse to speak?”
“Maharājani,” he replied, “I am able.” He then explained that it would be a very difficult work, and would occupy a long time; and that he would require seven years for it, and must have the horse by him all the time, and use it, while the King would provide food for it.
The King was delighted at the idea of getting his horse taught to speak, and at once agreed to these conditions. So the Paṇḍitayā took away the horse, and kept it at the King’s expense.
Before the seven years had elapsed the King had died, and the horse remained with the Paṇḍitayā.
E. G. Goonewardene, Esqre.