As for the mice, they were spared no comforts, hidden away where no one could harm them. They were given everything that mice could want until at last the happy couple died of old age.
Mexico (Nahua)
89. Let Somebody Buy You Who Doesn’t Know You
Don Jesús Nutmeg was a good Catholic and the soul of simplicity. His beliefs were pure. He was not a man who questioned the faith.
Now, they had a farmer’s market in Chiantla, and Don Jesús was there to buy a mule. With his money piled in his pack basket he attracted the notice of thieves, never lacking at farmer’s markets, and two of the thieves started to follow him.
Don Chús walked around and around until he saw a mule that pleased him, and after calling attention to its defects, with the owner pointing out its merits, he settled the bill and took his purchase to where he had lodgings for the night. He tied the mule to a stake and threw it some hay.
He knew better than to fall asleep and kept coming out of his room to make sure the mule was still there. Meanwhile the two thieves had been keeping an eye on him. The moment he let up his guard, they untied the mule, and one of them led it away while the other tied himself to the rope and got down on his hands and knees.
A little later, when Nutmeg came out with his torch light, instead of the mule he found a man on all fours chewing hay. He couldn’t think what to say. But without coming too close, he crossed himself and finally said, “In the name of the Almighty, what are you doing here?”
The thief answered, “Oh, sir! My benefactor! You see before you a man who fell out of favor with his mother and father, and because of it a witch enchanted me and changed me into a mule. She said, ‘Astray in your life, you will now be astray in the world. You will not return to your former shape until you are owned by a believer who is sincere in his faith.’ And from then on I endured nothing but hardship. I was sold at auction, and that man, Scholar Corncob, bought me. But he’s such a heretic, I couldn’t become my old self until my luck willed it that you, who are a saint, should buy me. I just became me again a half hour ago. All I need is to be untied. But how can I do it? My hands still feel like hooves.”
“Well!” said Don Chús. “If I let you go, how do I get my money back? Do I get it from you?”
The thief said, “You know I have nothing. Let me be free, give me your blessing . . . and give me five pesos. God will pay you back. Mind you, have you ever known God to renege on a debt?” Moved by compassion, Don Chús sent the man on his way.
The following day Don Chús went back to market to get a replacement for the lost mule. His act of charity had made him lighthearted. As he looked around, his glance fell on an animal that seemed quite similar to the one he had lost. He noted its size, its coloring, its brand. Then he took out the bill of sale from the previous day and compared all the identifying marks. When he was satisfied that the animal was the one he had bought two days before, he looked it in the eye and said, “You rogue, let somebody buy you who doesn’t know you.”
Guatemala
90. The Mouse King
All right, they say that in those olden days there was a hut where a peasant couple lived at the edge of a forest, and they had a pretty daughter. The daughter went out for a walk in the forest and found a white mouse asleep at the base of a tree. She picked it up and said, “I’m going to take this home.”
It was a beautiful little thing she’d found. Well, wasn’t it? But the mouse spoke to her and said, “Don’t take me, I beg you. Don’t make me a prisoner. I’m the king of the mice, and if you let me go free I’ll give you anything you ask for.” The girl said, “Ah, that I would like!”
The mouse said, “Whenever you need anything, just come to the base of this oak tree and say, ‘My little mouse, my little white mouse, come, I need you.’ And there I’ll be. I’ll give you whatever you ask.”
The girl’s mind worked quickly. She said, “I’ll ask you right now. Change my family’s hut into a nice farmhouse.”
“It’s done,” said the mouse. “Go, and you’ll see.”
She ran off. When she got home, what a surprise! Where the hut had been, there was a magnificent villa. Her parents were overjoyed, and so was she. She thought, “I’ll have to go thank the mouse.” At that moment her lover appeared. He was only a small farmer, and it was necessary to tell him the truth, “You don’t appeal to me anymore. I’ve come up in the world. Look at this beautiful house!”
Then she began to think, “I was stupid. Why did I ask for a house? I should have mentioned a castle.”
She returned to the oak tree and called out, “My little mouse, my little white mouse, please give me a castle.” When she got back home, there was the castle. Before she could reach the door, a handsome young nobleman came up to her and asked if he could be her husband.
At the very idea her face lit up. But then she thought, “No, I can do better than this.” She brushed the nobleman aside and went back to the oak tree. She announced, “I want to be queen. I want you to give me a queen’s palace.”
She was asking for something fantastic, wasn’t she? She said to the mouse, “I want to marry a king.”
“Very well,” said the mouse. She went back. There was the castle, fit for a king. She got to the door, and who should come out to greet her but the king’s son. These were the wonderful days, long ago, so it was probably the king of England. Or wherever.
Anyway, he asked her to marry him, and of course she said yes. But then she went back to the mouse, who was starting to be annoyed. It said, “Look, you’re too ambitious. Nothing satisfies you. You want one thing and then you want another, always something better, and then something still better. Be careful.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Everything’s perfect. I’m about to marry the son of the king. All I need now is for him to do everything I tell him to do, so I’ll be the one who rules the kingdom.”
The mouse, finally, had had enough, and it looked her in the eye and said, “I already told you, don’t be so ambitious. Now go home.”
She left for home, thinking when she got there she’d find the prince as meek as a lamb, ready to do whatever he was told. Imagine her surprise when she found the same miserable little house she had had before, the same little hut, and there were her poor parents in their same old clothes. She looked down, and her beautiful dress was gone. All the fine clothes, the great house, the carriages, everything had become nothing. You know what I mean?
Do you realize? Every time she asked for something, the mouse deceived her, so she only thought she saw it, no? The mouse was testing her. And what did she do but ask for more and still more. The mouse had great powers of mind that caused her to see what she wanted to see. But at last she stepped over the line and the mouse made her see what was real.
Bolivia / Amalia de Ordóñez
91. Mariquita Grim and Mariquita Fair
Long ago there lived a woman with a daughter and a stepdaughter, both called Mariquita. But people called the daughter Mariquita Grim and the stepdaughter Mariquita Fair. The one was a fright to look at with a temper to match, while the other was a kind-hearted soul and as pretty as a picture.
Mother and daughter lost no opportunity to torment Mariquita Fair. They made her do all the work and gave her beatings on top of that. Yet she never complained.
One day she was handed a pig and told to raise it. She thought, “Now I have a little friend to play with.” But as soon as the stepmother saw that the pig had brought her some happiness, she said, “Tomorrow we’ll kill it and put it in the larder.”
And that’s what happened. The next day, over Mariquita’s protests, they butchered the pig. Mariquita was handed the innards. “Take these to the river and wash them off,” shouted the stepmother. “Don’t lose any, or you won’t even live to regret it!”
The stepdaughter went to the river and began cleaning the innards. She had just finished when a fish swam by and carried off the liver. Mariquita began to cry, fearing that if she came back wi
th anything missing she’d be butchered herself.
A dog came along, and the girl said, “Dog, please help me find my pig’s liver. If I go home without it, my stepmother will kill me.”
“Bandage my sore paw,” said the dog, “and I’ll bring you the liver.” But when she had bandaged the paw, the dog said, “A little old man will be coming soon. He’s the one who can help you.”
When the little old man came by, the girl said, “Father, please help me. I lost a pig’s liver in the river. If I don’t find it, my stepmother will do me in.”
“Trim my beard,” he said, “and I’ll get it for you.”
Mariquita, good as she was, trimmed the old man’s beard, and as soon as she’d finished he ran off, saying, “A little old woman will be here soon. She’s the one who can help you.”
The little old woman appeared, and Mariquita said, “Mother, help me! I’ve lost a pig’s liver, and they’ll kill me if I go home without it.”
The old woman, who was the Virgin herself, said, “See that little house, over there? Go mess it up! Kill the dog, cut off the parakeet’s head, wring the rooster’s neck, and give the baby a sound whipping! Can you do all that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” answered the girl.
“Then leave me the basket with the innards, and when you see it again you’ll find that nothing is missing.”
The girl ran to the house and went in. Angel that she was, instead of doing what she had been told to do, she swept the floor, put everything in order, gave the dog its dish, fed the parakeet and the rooster, put soup on the fire, bathed the baby and tucked it into bed, then hid behind the door.
When the old woman arrived and looked around, she was well pleased. “Who’s my housekeeper?”
The dog woofed:
Behind the door! She’s the one! Catch her quick, before she can run!
The rooster crowed:
Behind the door! She’s the one! Catch her quick, before she can run!
The old woman pulled back the door, and when she saw Mariquita she placed her hand on the girl’s forehead and said, “Here’s my hand-print; a star it will seem. The more you scrape it, the more it will gleam.”
She was handed a mirror, and in the reflection she saw a star as beautiful as anything you could imagine. She asked, “Would you let me have a cloth to cover my head? If my stepmother sees me with a star she’ll be so jealous she’ll give me a beating.” The old woman handed her a kerchief, also the basket with the pig’s innards complete, and Mariquita set off for home.
As she came through the door her stepmother said, “What’s that on your forehead?” and she tore off the kerchief. When she saw the beauty mark, she took a knife and scraped at it. But the more she scraped the more it glowed. She began to scream, “Explain yourself or I’ll cut your throat. Where did you get that star?”
The girl told everything. Then the stepmother called to her daughter and said, “Tomorrow you’ll go to the river and wash pig’s innards. When you come back you’ll have one of these stars on your forehead.”
Said and done. Early the next morning they killed another pig and put the innards in a basket. When the daughter got to the river, she began scrubbing and rinsing. She waited for a fish to swim by, and when none appeared she dropped the liver in the water and started to wail. A dog came along. “Hey, dog!” she said. “Get me that liver!”
“If you’ll bandage my paw,” said the dog.
“Bandage? I don’t put bandages on dogs.”
The dog made no reply and ran on. A little old man came by. “Hey, old man! Jump in the water and fetch me that liver!”
“Would you trim my beard?”
“Ask me to trim your beard? How dare you!”
Without another word the old man walked on. Then the little old woman came along. “Old woman, would you get me that liver I dropped?”
“I’ll try to find it for you,” said the old woman, “if you’ll help me with my housework. Could you straighten things up? And then could you start the soup, bathe the baby, fill the water jar, and put out food for the dog and the parakeet and the rooster?”
The girl dropped her basket at the old woman’s feet and headed for the little house. When she got there, she said to herself, “What could the old woman have been thinking of?” Ill-tempered as she was, she picked up the trash basket and emptied it all over the floor. She broke the dishes, whipped the baby, smashed the water jar, beat the dog until it was nearly dead, and twisted the necks of the parakeet and the rooster until they were both gasping. Then she hid behind the door. When the little old woman came in, she exclaimed, “Who could have done this to me?”
The dog gave a barely audible woof:
Behind . . . the door! She’s the . . . one! Catch her quick, before she can run!
and fell over dead. The rooster cackled from the depths of its throat:
Behind . . . the door! She’s the . . . one! Catch her quick, before she can run!
and breathed its last. The little old woman pulled back the door, and when she saw Mariquita she put her hand on the girl’s forehead, saying, “Where I place my hand a cockscomb will show; try to slice it off and you’ll make it grow.”
The girl picked up her basket and went off cheerfully, imagining she had a star on her forehead. When her mother saw her coming, she said, “Daughter, what’s on your forehead?”
“A star, what else?”
“Goodness no! Look for yourself!” And she shoved a mirror in front of her.
One look at the horrible cockscomb and the girl burst into tears. “Mama,” she cried, “cut it off!” The mother began slicing away with a knife. But the more she sliced, the more it grew.
Time passed, and as the two girls became women they remained true to form, the one as lovely as could be, the other as frightful as ever. The king’s son was about to take a wife. He issued an invitation for all the young women to come to the palace so he could choose among them. The stepmother, naturally, would have hidden Mariquita Fair, but she had no choice in the matter. Those who failed to present their daughters were to be punished.
When the day of the ball arrived, the prince himself stood at the door to receive the guests. Mariquita Fair was announced. The prince took one look at the beautiful star on her forehead and fell helplessly in love. “Will you be my bride?” he asked. “Yes,” she said, and in no time there was a wedding.
When the prince discovered how Mariquita Fair had suffered at the hands of her stepmother and her stepsister, he threw them out of the kingdom. There was nothing for them to do but wander from place to place, everyone fleeing at the sight of the cruel-looking mother and the horrid daughter with the cockscomb sprouting from her head.
Cuba
92. The Compadre’s Dinner
A man and his wife were so stingy that if somebody came to the door while they were eating they’d hide their food under a towel. The husband had a compadre, and one day the compadre said to a neighbor, “I’m going to my friends’ for dinner.”
“No!” said the neighbor. “How is it possible?”
“I’ll make you a bet,” said the man, and he went off to his compadre’s. They saw him coming and quickly put their dinner under a towel. The man came in, went over to the towel, and sat on it. The wife said, “You’re not comfortable. Sit somewhere else.”
“I’m fine,” said the man.
Hours went by. Still the compadre was seated on the towel. The husband and wife were dying of hunger. Finally the woman said, “Compadre, stretch out on this bed.”
“I’m not particular,” he said. “I’ll just spend the night where I am.”
The compadre lay down on the towel and pretended to snore. The husband whispered to his wife, “I’m so hungry. Go out to the kitchen-shed and make us a majarete. If he sees you, tell him you’re making a pot of starch.”
The compadre saw the woman headed for the kitchen and followed her. “Señora, you and I are exactly the same,” he said. “We can’t sleep, and we both have
to starch clothes! Look, I have a handkerchief here that was supposed to have been starched for me, and it never got done. I’m going to have to do it myself.” He put the handkerchief over his hand and scooped all the pudding out of the pot. Then he went back to the towel and settled down again.
The woman followed him into the house and whispered to her husband, “He put his handkerchief into the pot and scooped up the majarete.”
“All right!” said the husband finally. “Go and make three tiny little bread rolls.” The compadre pretended to be sleeping soundly. The wife went back to the kitchen, made the three little rolls, and put them on the hearth to bake. The compadre suddenly appeared and said, “What won’t happen next! Here you are sleepless again, and I can’t sleep either.” He began to ramble on. As he talked, he stood in front of the hearth and played with the poker.
“I’m thinking how we three are compadres,” he said, “and someday I’ll be coming into a nice little inheritance. But why would I want it? I’d give it to you.” Tapping the poker in the embers, he broke the three little rolls into tiny bits.
The woman went back to the house and reported to her husband, “He completely ruined the rolls.” The compadre lay down again and pretended to snore, this time so loudly the woman had go outside.
Before she left, she whispered to her husband, “Here’s what you do. Slip out through the window with a bite to eat, and if he hears you chomping he’ll think there’s a burro on the patio eating our lettuce.”
Hearing the sounds from the patio the compadre jumped up and pounded on the wall to frighten off the burro. He ran outside with a stick and delivered so many blows that he killed his compadre.
“What have you done to my husband?” cried the woman.
Latin American Folktales Page 27