'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!'

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--