There was a miller whose only inheritance to his three sons was his mill, his donkey, and his cat. The division was soon made. The eldest took the mill, the second the donkey, and the youngest nothing but the cat.
The poor young fellow was quite comfortless for having received so little. “After I have eaten up my cat, and made myself a muff from his skin, I must then die of hunger.”
The cat, who heard all this, but pretended otherwise, said to him with a grave and serious air, “Do not be so concerned, my good master. If you will but give me a bag, and have a pair of boots made for me, that I may scamper through the dirt and the brambles, then you shall see that you are not so poorly off with me as you imagine.”