So the rat and the egg said a fond farewell and the egg went on his way, being picked up and put back in his box, exactly as he had foretold.
“I liked that egg,” said the rat to himself. “But I mustn’t get too fond of him. He will be poached or fried soon.”
However, fate had other things in store for the egg. Christmas time came, and the egg was pierced very carefully, filled with plaster of Paris, decorated with a waistcoat of silver paper and sequins, and hung on the Christmas tree, as a decoration.
“Ahoy there! Rat!”
The rat stopped and shook his head. “I’m hearing things,” he said to himself.
He scuttled on and the noise came again.
“Excuse me! Rat!”
The rat stopped and turned.
“It’s me! Egg.”