So that night the Maharájá pulled his bed out under the tree on which the bird always perched. At night the bird came and called out, "Doorkeeper! doorkeeper!" and the doorkeeper answered, "Yes, lord." And the bird said, "Is your Maharájá well?" "Yes." "Are the children well?" "Yes." "And all his servants, horses, and camels and elephants—are they well?" "Yes." "Are you well?" "Yes." "Have you had plenty of food?" "Yes." "What a fool your Maharájá is!" And then she cried, and the pearls came tumbling down on the Maharájá's eyes, and the Maharájá opened one eye and saw what a beautiful bird it was. And then it laughed, and rubies fell from its beak on to the Maharájá.
Next morning the Maharájá said he would give any one who would catch the bird as much money as he wanted. So he called a fisherman, and asked him to bring his net and catch the bird when it came that night. The fisherman said he would for one thousand rupees. That night the fisherman, the Maharájá, and the doorkeeper, all waited under the tree. Soon the bird came, and asked after the Maharájá, after his children, and all his servants and elephants, and camels and horses, and then after the doorkeeper, and then it called the Maharájá a fool. Then it cried, and then it laughed, and just as it laughed the fisherman threw the net over the bird and caught it. Then they shut it up in an iron cage, and the next morning the Maharájá took it out and stroked it, and said, "What a sweet little bird! what a lovely little bird!" And the Maharájá felt something like a pin in its head, and he gave a pull, and out came the pin, and then his own dear wife, the Pomegranate-flower Rání, stood before him. The Rájá was exceedingly glad, and so were his two children. And there were great rejoicings, and they lived happily ever after.
Told by Dunkní at Simla, 26th July 1876.
