There was a miller whose only inheritance to his three sons was his mill, his donkey, and his cat. The division was soon made. The eldest took the mill, the second the donkey, and the youngest took the cat.
The poor young fellow was quite comfortless because he received so little. “My brothers,” said he, “may make a handsome living by joining their shares together; but, for my part, after I have eaten up my cat, and made myself a muff from his skin, I must then die of hunger.”
The cat, who heard all this, but pretended otherwise, said to him serious, “Do not be so concerned, my good master. If you will give me a bag, and have a pair of boots made for me, that I may scamper through the dirt and the brambles, then you shall see that you are not so poorly off with me as you imagine.”
The cat’s master did not believe him very much. However, he had often seen him play a great many cunning tricks to catch rats and mice,[1] such as hanging by his heels, or hiding himself in the meal, and pretending to be dead; so he did take some hope that he might give him some help in his miserable condition.[2]
After receiving what he had asked for, the cat gallantly pulled on the boots and slung the bag about his neck. Holding its drawstrings in his forepaws,[3] he went to a place where there were a lot of rabbits. He put some bran and greens into his bag, then laid down as if he were dead. He waited for some young rabbits to come and look into his bag.
Soon a rash and foolish young rabbit jumped into his bag, and the master cat immediately closed the strings, then took and killed him without pity.[4]
Proud of his prey, he went with it to the palace, and asked to speak with his majesty. He was shown upstairs into the king’s apartment,