Long ago, in an old house in China, there lived a family of mice.
They lived behind the wall, and under the floor, and in a warm dry corner beside the stove.
They had a long crack in the boards to run along.
And they had more children than anyone could count.
The smallest of them all was the daughter.
She had the brightest eyes and the quietest feet. And she never forgot anyone who had been kind to her.
The father mouse had a plan.
“My daughter,” he said, “should marry the strongest thing in the world.”
“I am not in a hurry,” said his daughter.
“Then I will be in a hurry for you,” said the father mouse.
So he put on his hat, and out he went.
He climbed to the hilltop, where the sun was sitting.
“Sun,” he said. “Are you the strongest thing in the world?”
The sun shook its head. “Not me. When a cloud comes, I have no light left.”
The father mouse nodded, and went to find the cloud.
“Cloud,” he said. “Are you the strongest thing in the world?”
The cloud shook its head. “Not me. When the wind comes, I am blown away.”
The father mouse nodded, and went to find the wind.
“Wind,” he said. “Are you the strongest thing in the world?”
The wind shook its head. “Not me. A wall stops me every time.”
The father mouse nodded, and went to find the wall.
“Wall,” he said. “Are you the strongest thing in the world?”
The wall shook its head. “Not me. A mouse can gnaw a hole right through me.”
The father mouse stopped.
The wind had gone quiet. The cloud had drifted off. The sun had slipped down behind the hill.
The house stood hushed. The last of the daylight lay in soft yellow squares on the floor.
The strongest thing in the world was a mouse.
He walked home slowly.
All the way back, he turned it over in his mind. The sun. The cloud. The wind. The wall.
Four times he had asked. And four times the answer came back the same small word.
Not me.
Back at the house, the daughter had swept the floor, and sorted the rice, and never once looked out of the door.
When her father came around the wall, a small mouse was already sitting in the doorway, waiting.
It was the young mouse from the house next door. The one who always helped the neighbours carry their rice.
The father mouse began to laugh.
“Child,” he said, “I have been looking all day. What I was looking for was sitting at our own door.”
That night, the moon came up big and round.
Behind the wall, a string of tiny red lanterns was lit.
Mice came from every house on the street. Cousins, and cousins of cousins.
A row of mice lifted the wedding chair onto their shoulders.
Thin little pipes began to play.
White grains of rice were scattered on the ground, the way people do at real weddings. Only much smaller.
The bride’s mother pinned one small flower in her hair.
Then the bride came out of the door, and the lanterns began to move.
The bride and the groom walked side by side, and all the little mice cheered in their soft, high voices.
All night, there were sounds behind the wall. Tiny drums. Tiny flutes. A hundred small feet, dancing on the floorboards.
In China, they say there is one night when the mice are married. It is the third night of the New Year. Parents and grandparents have told this Chinese folktale for hundreds of years – a small Chinese fairy tale about a very small wedding.
So on that night, families turn the lamps down early. They go to bed early. And they leave the whole house to the mice.
No candles. No voices. No sweeping the floor.
Some families leave a pinch of rice in the corner on purpose. By morning, it is gone.
Then the music stops. The last lantern goes out. And the mice go home to bed, the way everyone does.
So tonight, you should go to bed early too.
The wedding chair has already left the door. The drums are small. The music is soft. And it will all be over before the sun comes back.
If you are very quiet, you might hear a little of it.
And if you don’t, that is all right too. They will be happy anyway.
So put your head down.
The lamp goes out.
The eyes close.
Good night, little mouse.
Good night, bride and groom.
This is a very old Chinese bedtime story. It is not long, and it is very gentle. Best read slowly, with the lights low.
