The poor man was up at dawn, and with his hoe slung over his shoulder he set off for the cornfield. He had nothing in his taris bag but a little bacon and a piece of hard bread.
By the time the sun rose in the sky, the poor man had started to get the corn. He worked diligently until noon, when the sun was shining on the top of his head.
The poor man was very tired from the digging, he was hot and hungry. So he sat down to eat the little bacon and the hard bread. He took out his knife and began to eat his fill. When he had eaten his bread, he was very thirsty.
The sun was shining brightly, it was sweltering hot, and the poor man's throat was parched. Then he was thirsty for a drink of water.
- "Hmm-hmm," he said, "where am I going to get a drink of water? The village is far away, am I going to die of thirst in this heat?
Then, in the cornfield at his feet, he suddenly saw a melon. It was a nice, big, green watermelon, and they'd probably sell it at the fair for a couple of sixpence. It must be a nice red one with a nice moist rind, and if you ate it, your thirst would soon go away.
- "Hey," thought the poor man sadly, "a pair of sixes would be nice, because the boots need new soles too. But then what about the thirst. Am I going to be thirsty here till the evening?
He pondered for a long time.
- "Hey, take it," he thought, "I'll cut it open and eat the watermelon. What will be will be.
He took his knife and sliced a big chunk out of the melon. Then he hears a faint voice whispering:
- Hey, stop, you're cutting me in half with your big knife.
The poor man carefully withdrew his knife and neatly sliced the melon in two. Well, a tiny little man popped out of the melon, the whole man couldn't have been bigger than a pencil. He wore a pretty green dress with gold trimmings, and a tiny little crown on his head.
- Who are you, human? - asked the poor man in astonishment.
- "I am the melon king," said the little man in the green suit, "or else my friends call me Melon Mishi. In hot summers I live in the good cool melon, but I rarely appear so that people can see me. Even then only the very thirsty people get to see me.
- 'It's all very nice,' said the poor man sadly; 'I've never seen such a beautiful little man as you are. I believe you are the king of melons, but you see, please, you have made me thirsty, for there was nothing in the melon. I missed the pretty red rind. It would be justice to bite your head off. What am I going to do with my thirst until tonight?
The little green-clad man knelt on the poor man's palm and begged for mercy.
- 'All right, I was only joking,' said the poor man, smiling, 'I'll just get through the thirst until the evening. But now I'm going back to my digging.
- 'Sit down for a moment,' said the melon king with a mischievous laugh, 'in gratitude for saving my life, I'll show you something.
He took a small whistle from his pocket and blew into it. Well, my lord, all at once a great black cloud came buzzing towards the cornfield and descended to the ground.
The big cloud was made up of little hornbills, each hornbill holding a tiny little hoe between its horns. They descended to the ground and began to scratch busily. No, they didn't hurt the corn, they were all wonderful hornbills.
Chop-chop, the cornfield was tilled in no time.
The poor man saw this and was also mad.
- "Now I really believe you're the melon king," he said, "even if you could quench my thirst.
- "Nothing could be easier," said the melon king. He quickly blew into his whistle, and with a great squeak all the field mice of the land came out, carrying on their shoulders small barrels of fresh, cold water in little barrels on a pole.
The poor man quenched his thirst and said:
- You are a good man after all, Misi Dinnye. I'd love to parley with you, if only you had a hand a little bigger than a chicken's foot.
- "Never mind," said the melon king, "don't worry about that. But I see it is getting dark. My time is up, and by sunset I must hide in the earth from which the melon grows. But I'll give you a piece of advice to repay your kindness. Don't leave the melon seeds, every seed that grows from the ground is worth its weight in gold. Farewell. Remember this poem well:
Turn your little seed into gold,
I am the melon king.
With that, he was gone in a flash, as if swallowed by the earth. And the poor man picked up the melon seeds and took them home. At home he put the seeds on the table and said:
Turn your little seed into gold,
I am the melon king.
Well, my lord, all the bright gold was ringing and jingling on the table. They just glittered.
There was great joy, the poor man's wife and his three children were delighted with the melon king's wonderful gift.
