The Rat’s Wedding

Once upon a time a fat, sleek Rat was caught in a shower of rain far from any shelter. So he dug himself a nice hole and sat in it, dry as a bone, while the rain poured down. While he was digging he came upon a fine dry root, just right for firewood, and he set it carefully aside—for rats are thrifty creatures—meaning to carry it home.

When the rain stopped he trotted off with his root, and before long he heard someone crying bitterly. Being both soft-hearted and curious, he stopped to ask what the matter was.

“My children are hungry,” said a man, “and my sticks are so damp they will not burn, so I cannot bake them any cakes.”

“If that is all,” said the good-natured Rat, “take this dry root. It will blaze up beautifully.”

The man thanked him a thousand times and gave him a lump of dough in return. “How lucky I am, and how clever!” thought the Rat as he trotted off. “Food enough for five days, all for one dry stick!”

Next he came to a potter’s yard. The potter had left his wheel spinning and was trying to quiet three screaming children.

“What a noise!” said the Rat. “What is the matter with them?”

“They are hungry,” said the potter. “Their mother has gone to fetch flour, and until she comes back I can neither work nor rest.”

“Is that all?” said the Rat. “Take this dough, cook it quickly, and stop their mouths.”

The potter was overwhelmed with gratitude and made the Rat accept a fine, well-baked pipkin to remember him by. The Rat was delighted, though the pot was rather awkward to carry, and after endless trouble he balanced it on his head and went on.

By and by he came upon some herdsmen with their cattle. One of them was milking a buffalo into his shoes, for want of a pail.

“Oh, fie!” cried the tidy Rat. “Why don’t you use a pail?”

“For the best of reasons,” growled the herdsman. “We haven’t got one.”

“Then do me the favour of using this pipkin,” said the Rat. “I cannot bear dirt.”

The herdsman was quite willing. He milked until the pot was brimming, then offered the Rat a drink by way of thanks. But the Rat, good-natured as he was, was also shrewd.

“That will never do,” he said. “I could not drink the worth of my pipkin at one draught. I could drink the milk of the whole herd and still want more. Give me the buffalo itself, and we shall be even.”

“Nonsense!” cried the herdsman. “A buffalo for a pipkin? And what would you do with a buffalo? The pot was about your size!”

The Rat drew himself up. “That is my affair,” he said. “Your business is to hand over the buffalo.”

Just for the fun of it, the herdsmen loosened the halter and were going to tie it to the little creature’s tail.

“No, no!” he cried. “If the beast pulled, the skin would come off my tail. Tie it round my neck.”

Laughing heartily, they did so, and the Rat took a polite leave and set off gaily—or rather, he meant to, but the buffalo would not move his way at all. He was far too proud to admit it, so he nodded knowingly to the herdsmen.

“Goodbye,” he said. “I am going home this way. It may be longer, but the grazing is better.”

When they roared with laughter, he trotted on with great dignity, telling himself, “After all, a buffalo must have a bellyful of grass if it is to give milk, and I have plenty of time.” So all day long he trotted wherever the buffalo chose to go, pretending it was his own idea, and by evening he was dead tired and very glad when the great beast, full of grass, lay down to chew the cud.

Just then a wedding party came by. The bridegroom and his friends had gone on ahead, and the bride’s palanquin followed behind. The bearers were hungry and cross, and they were grumbling loudly over their supper of plain rice pottage, with no meat and neither sweet nor salt in it.

“Dear me, what a shame!” cried the Rat, who saw his chance. “I will give you my buffalo for your dinner if you will give me what is left of the pottage.”

“Your buffalo?” they jeered. “Rubbish! Whoever heard of a rat owning a buffalo?”

“Not often, I dare say,” he answered proudly. “But look—I am leading the beast by a string.”

“Never mind the string,” cried a big, hungry bearer. “Master or no master, I mean to have meat!”

So they killed the buffalo, cooked it and ate it with great relish. Then they offered the Rat the scraps. “Here, little Rat-skin,” they said, “that is your share.”

“Now look here!” cried the Rat hotly. “I will have none of your leftovers. Do you think I would give my best buffalo, that gave quarts of milk, for a few scraps? Give me the bride instead!”

By this time the servants were growing alarmed at what they had done, and they thought it wisest to run away and leave the Rat in charge of the palanquin.

So he drew back the curtain and, in his sweetest voice and with his best bows, begged the bride to step out. She did, in great astonishment. He trotted along beside her—a lovely young woman in a rich dress and glittering jewels, plainly some king’s daughter—telling her all the way how clever he was and what fine bargains he made. When they reached his hole, he stepped forward politely.

“Welcome to my humble home,” he said. “Pray step in—or, as the doorway is small, allow me to go first and light the way.”

In he ran, but when she did not follow he poked his nose out crossly. “Why don’t you come in? Don’t you know it is rude to keep a husband waiting?”

“My good sir,” she laughed, “I can’t squeeze into that little hole!”

The Rat coughed. “There is some truth in that,” he said after a moment. “You are rather overgrown. I suppose I must build you a thatched hut somewhere. For tonight you can sit under this wild plum-tree.”

“But I am so hungry!” she said.

“Dear, dear, everybody is hungry today!” said the Rat. “I will fetch you some supper in a trice.” He came back with an ear of millet and a dried pea. “Isn’t that a fine meal?”

“I can’t eat that!” she whimpered. “Not a mouthful! I want rice pottage and cakes and sweet eggs and sugar-drops. I shall die without them!”

“Oh dear, what a nuisance a bride is!” cried the Rat. “Why not eat the wild plums?”

“Nobody could live on wild plums,” she said, “and these are only half ripe, and I can’t reach them.”

“Rubbish! Ripe or unripe, they must do for tonight. Tomorrow you can gather a basketful, sell them in the city, and buy as many sugar-drops as you like.”

Next morning he climbed the plum-tree and nibbled through the stalks until the fruit dropped into her veil. Unripe as the plums were, she carried them to the town, crying, “Green plums I sell! Green plums I sell! Princess am I, Rat’s bride as well!”

As she passed the palace, her mother the Queen heard the cry, ran out, and knew her at once. There was great rejoicing, for everyone had thought the poor bride was lost. They took her inside, and when the Rat came knocking for his wife, the wily Queen called to him through the door.

“La, son-in-law, what a fuss about nothing! Who wants to run away with your wife? On the contrary, we are proud of the match. I only keep you waiting at the door until we can spread the carpets and welcome you in style.”

The Rat was soothed and waited patiently while the cunning Queen got ready for him. She cut a hole in the very middle of a stool, put a red-hot stone underneath, covered it with a stewpan lid, and spread a beautiful embroidered cloth over it all. Then, with the greatest respect, she led him to the stool and begged him to be seated.

“How clever I am, and what bargains I make!” thought the Rat as he climbed up. “Here I am, son-in-law to a real live Queen. What will the neighbours say?”

At first he sat on the edge, but even there it was warm, and he began to fidget. “Dear me, mother-in-law, how hot your house is!” he said. “Everything I touch seems to burn!”

“You are out of the wind there, my son,” said the Queen. “Sit more in the middle and you will feel the breeze.”

But he did not feel any breeze! By then the stewpan lid was so hot that he fairly frizzled when he sat down on it, and he did not escape until he had left all his tail, half his hair and a good deal of his skin behind him. Off he ran, howling with pain and vowing that he would never, never, never make another bargain.

Where this tale comes from

“The Rat’s Wedding” is from Flora Annie Steel’s Tales of the Punjab (1894). R. C. Temple’s notes explain that the pipkin is a gharâ, the round clay pot of India, that the wild plums are ber, and that milk was measured by weight, in sers of about two pounds.

He also gives the Punjabi words of the bride’s street cry, beginning “Gaderî gader!”, which Steel turned into “Green plums I sell!” The source uses the rat’s severe burns as a comic punishment. That violent ending is retained here, rather than treated as a harmless mishap.

Read the original: Flora Annie Steel, Tales of the Punjab, 1894 (Project Gutenberg #6145)

Reading guidance: for mature readers. The story includes a bride treated as property, killing a buffalo and deliberately inflicting severe burns on the Rat.

A closer reading

The first exchanges answer real needs: dry fuel helps a hungry family, and dough feeds the potter’s children. Later the Rat begins assigning inflated prices after accepting thanks, then changes his own bargain after the buffalo is eaten. The repeated thought that he is clever conceals this shift from helpful exchange to demands others never agreed to.

The bride exposes the limit of treating every gain as a better possession. She is a person with a home, needs and a family, not a portable prize like the pipkin. Her street cry carries the identity the Rat ignores back to her mother. The Queen secures her return, but the deliberate burning is a cruel punishment rather than something readers need to accept as deserved.

Try this with the story

Divide the chain into freely offered gifts, demands made afterward, and the attempted claim over the bride. Explain why the bride cannot belong in a list of traded objects. Then compare her public street cry with the Rat’s private boasts: which account reveals the cost of his supposed success?

Talk about it

• How did the Rat turn one dry root into a royal bride?
• Were all of the Rat’s bargains fair to the people he traded with? Why or why not?
• What do you think the Rat should have done when the bride could not fit into his hole?

Related stories

• Hans in Luck — a Grimm tale of trades that go the other way, from gold down to nothing
• The Bear’s Bad Bargain — another Punjabi tale where greed for a bargain leads to trouble
• The Grain of Corn — a Punjabi chain tale where one small thing leads to another