Puss in Boots: French Fairy Tale by Charles Perrault

The Story

Once upon a time, in a small village beside a wide river, there lived an old miller who owned a mill, a donkey and a clever gray cat. When the miller died, his three sons had to share what he left behind.

The eldest son inherited the mill, with its great stone wheel and steady income.

The second son received the donkey, strong and patient, which could carry sacks of grain to market.

The youngest son Tom waited for his share with a tight feeling in his chest. He hoped for a little money, or even a small chest of tools for his work.

Instead, when the village lawyer reached the last line of the will, he cleared his throat and read:

“To my youngest son, Thomas, I leave my cat.”

“That’s it?” Tom whispered. “A cat?”

The grey cat sat nearby, washing his paws and flicking his tail, as if he understood every word. Tom’s brothers did not look sorry. The eldest walked back to the mill. The second led the donkey away. In just a few minutes Tom sat alone by the river…with the cat.

“At least you can catch mice,” Tom sighed. “But I can’t live on that. I can’t grind corn with you. I can’t ride you to town. I’m poorer than before.”

A Very Unusual Cat

Tom sat down on a stone by the river, looking sad and feeling sorry for himself. Tom didn’t notice the cat washing its paws in a puddle of water. If he had, he may have realized that this was an unusual cat. A very unusual cat.

Then a calm voice spoke.

“You could start,” the voice said, “by not giving up so quickly.”

Tom’s head shot up. “Who’s there?”

“I am,” said the cat.

The gray cat stood up straight on his hind legs. Tom stared, mouth open.

“You…you can talk,” he said.

“Yes,” the cat replied. “I can talk. I can also think, plan and work. You may not have much, Tom, but you do have me. And that is worth more than you think.”

Tom rubbed his eyes. “Have I fallen asleep? Is this a dream?”

“No,” said the cat. “And even if it were, it would still be a good idea to listen. All I need from you is a pair of strong leather boots and a new simple bag with a cord. If you give me those, I will make sure that one day you will not call yourself poor again.”

“Boots,” Tom repeated slowly. “For a cat.”

“Exactly,” said the cat. “I walk a lot. Boots will protect my paws and make me look important. People trust important looking cats.”

It sounded ridiculous. However, the cat’s eyes shone with such confidence that Tom felt a tiny flame of hope. Besides, he thought, what else can I do? And he is a talking cat.

So Tom sold his last small sack of grain and traded an old belt for a new solid bag with a drawstring. He begged a shoemaker to cut and sew a pair of neat little boots from an old leather coat.

When Tom brought them home, the cat pulled on the boots, stood up on his hind legs and took a few careful steps. He gave a satisfied nod.

“Perfect. From now on,” he said, “you may call me Puss in Boots.”

Puss Begins His Plan

The very next morning Puss in Boots rose before sunrise. He filled the bag with fresh parsley, cabbage leaves and a crust of bread. Then he walked along the riverside path until he reached a quiet place where wild rabbits often came to nibble.

There he laid the bag on the ground, opened it wide and pretended to fall fast asleep beside it.

Soon a rabbit hopped out of the bushes. It sniffed the air. The brave rabbit crept closer, tempted by the parsley. It wriggled right inside the bag.

In a flash Puss sprang up, pulled the cord tight and caught the rabbit neatly.

“Thank you, little one,” Puss murmured. “You will help my master more than you know.”

Instead of eating the rabbit, Puss slung the bag over his shoulder and marched along the road that ran beside the river, straight toward the king’s palace.

The palace guards had never seen a cat walk so briskly and certainly never seen a cat walking on two feet in leather boots. They laughed in surprise and let him through the gate and into the kings throne room.

Puss in Boots bowed deeply before the king.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “I bring a gift from my master, the noble Marquis of Carabas.”

The king, who loved fine titles, raised his eyebrows. “The Marquis of Carabas? I don’t believe I know him. What does he send?”

“This fine rabbit,” said Puss. He opened the bag and showed the plump creature.

The king clapped his hands with delight. “How generous! Please carry my thanks to your master.”

Puss bowed again and padded home looking very pleased.

That evening, as Tom stirred a thin soup over the fire, Puss sat down and licked his whiskers.

“Today I used your new title for the first time, my lord Marquis of Carabas,” he said.
Tom almost dropped the spoon. “My what?”

“Your title,” said Puss calmly. “Marquis of Carabas. If you want a better life, you must be ready to step into it. Trust me, Tom.”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t understand half of what you say,” he muttered. But deep inside, he wanted to believe.

More Gifts for the King

Day after day Puss in Boots went hunting. Because he knew the fields and the riverbank so well, he always found something. He caught plump partridges in the wheat fields, fat ducks from the reeds by the river and even a hare or two in the hedges.

Each time he carried the catch to the palace and bowed.

“A gift, Your Majesty, from my master, the Marquis of Carabas.”

The king grew more and more curious about this generous marquis who he had never met. The princess too found Puss fascinating. She often went out to meet him whenever he arrived, her eyes following his neat boots and shining whiskers.

“That cat is remarkable,” she told her father. “Any man with such a clever servant must be clever himself.”

“Perhaps we shall meet him one day,” said the king.

Puss heard this, for he always listened carefully. He knew the right moment was getting closer.

A Bath in the River

One bright morning Puss bounded into their little house by the river.

“Tom! Good news,” he cried. “The king and the princess are driving out today to see the countryside. They will follow the road beside the river. This is our chance.”

“Our chance for what?” Tom asked.

“For everything,” said Puss. “You will go and bathe in the river at exactly the right time and place. You will wear your best shirt and your cleanest trousers. Nothing else. I will handle the rest.”

Tom frowned. “Bathe in front of the king? That sounds like trouble.”

“It sounds like a plan,” said Puss. “You trusted me with your last coins. Trust me once more.”

Tom hesitated. However, Puss had never let him down. So a little later they walked together to a smooth bend in the river where the water ran clear and not too deep.

“Now,” said Puss, glancing along the road. “Into the water, quickly.”

Tom stepped in. The water was cool but not freezing. He walked out until it reached his waist.

On the bank, Puss gathered up Tom’s old clothes, boots and all, and hid them under a rock.

Not long afterwards, Puss heard wheels, hooves and the cheerful sound of trumpets. The king’s carriage rolled into sight, painted red and gold.

Puss in Boots ran up the bank, waving his paws.

“Help! Help!” he shouted. “My master, the Marquis of Carabas, is in danger! Thieves attacked him, stole his clothes and left him to drown in the river!”

“The Marquis of Carabas?” cried the king. “Stop the carriage at once!”

Guards rushed down and pulled Tom from the river. He stood there shivering, trying not to stare at the princess who looked at him with wide curious eyes.

“Bring fine clothes from my bag,” ordered the king. “We cannot leave a noble marquis standing in wet rags.”

Servants fetched a velvet coat, a linen shirt and handsome trousers. Soon Tom looked like a young nobleman.

The princess smiled. “You look much better now, my lord,” she said gently.

Tom managed a nervous bow. His heart beat faster than the horses’ hooves.

“Your Majesty,” said Puss, bowing again, “my master would be honored to join you on your drive if you allow it.”

“Of course,” said the king. “There is room in the carriage. Come, Marquis of Carabas, sit with us and tell us about your lands.”

Tom climbed in, still unsure what to say. Puss, meanwhile, sprinted ahead along the road, his boots thudding softly on the dust.

Fields of the Marquis

As the royal carriage rolled along, it passed golden fields where reapers cut wheat under the hot sun. Puss reached them first. He called out, “Good people! The king will stop here soon and ask whose land this is. If you wish to keep his favor you will answer, ‘These fields belong to the noble Marquis of Carabas.’ Do you understand?”

The reapers had heard strange tales about the ogre who owned the land and about his temper. Now they saw no ogre, only a very confident cat in boots. They whispered together and decided it would be wise to do as he said. They nodded.

Soon the carriage arrived. The king leaned out.

“What fine fields,” he said. “Good people, whose land is this?”

“These fields belong to the noble Marquis of Carabas, Your Majesty!” the reapers shouted together.

The king turned to Tom. “You have rich land, my lord.”

Tom’s cheeks burned. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. The princess watched him, thoughtful but not unkind.

Meanwhile Puss ran ahead to a meadow where shepherds watched over flocks of plump sheep.

“Listen carefully,” Puss told them. “When the king comes and asks whose sheep these are, you will say, ‘They belong to the noble Marquis of Carabas.’ The ogre who owns this place is not someone you should miss, I promise you.”

The shepherds exchanged worried looks. They disliked the ogre and his cruel ways. If this new marquis could get rid of him, perhaps life would improve. So they agreed.

A little later the king’s carriage drew up beside the meadow.

“What fine sheep,” said the king. “Shepherds, whose are these?”

“They belong to the noble Marquis of Carabas, Your Majesty!” they called.

The king smiled with satisfaction. The princess glanced at Tom with new respect.

So it went with every field, meadow and orchard along the road. Each time the workers called out that the land belonged to the Marquis of Carabas. Each time the king grew more impressed.

The Ogre’s Great Castle

At last Puss in Boots reached a vast stone castle that rose above the river. Dark flags fluttered from its towers. Thick smoke rolled from tall chimneys. This was the home of the ogre who truly owned all the land.

Puss straightened his boots, smoothed his whiskers and knocked boldly at the great door.

A servant opened it, eyes wide. “What do you want, cat?”

“I wish to pay my respects to your master,” said Puss politely. “Please tell him that Puss in Boots is here as the servant of the noble Marquis of Carabas and I have heard marvelous stories about his powers.”

The servant, curious, led Puss through a long hall lined with trophies and rugs. At the far end sat the ogre himself, huge and heavy, with hands like hammers and yellow eyes.

“So,” the ogre rumbled, “you are the cat who runs to the king with presents.”

“And you,” said Puss, bowing low, “are the famous ogre whose strength and magic everyone fears. They say you can change your shape as easily as others change their shirts. I simply had to see such wonders for myself.”

The ogre grinned, pleased.

“It is true,” he boasted. “I can turn into any animal I wish.”

“Any animal?” Puss tilted his head. “I can easily imagine you as a lion or a wolf. That suits someone as big as you. But I doubt you could turn into something very small. A tiny mouse, for example. That would be far too difficult, surely.”

The ogre’s face darkened. “Too difficult? Watch me!”

One Last Trick

The ogre stood up and stamped his foot. The floor shook. Flames flashed around him. In an instant he turned into a great roaring lion, mane bristling, claws scraping the stone.

Puss leaped onto a chair and clung to the back, tail puffed, heart thudding.

“So fierce!” he said. “Very impressive indeed. You almost frightened me out of my boots.”

The lion snorted. Then with another flash of magic, the ogre stood there again.

“But I still think,” Puss went on, his voice mild, “that a tiny mouse would be too tricky. A lion is big and loud. A mouse is small and quick. I don’t believe you could manage that.”

The ogre roared with anger. He could not bear to be told he couldn’t do something.
“I can turn into a mouse!” he bellowed. “Just look!”

There was another flash. The huge body shrank and shrank until, on the tiled floor, a little gray mouse quivered and twitched.

At that very second, all fear left Puss. A cat is always a cat. He sprang from the chair, pounced on the mouse and with one neat bite, it was over.

“And that,” Puss said calmly, licking his lips, “takes care of the ogre.”

A Castle for the Marquis

Puss raced to the kitchen.

“Listen up!” he cried. “The ogre has gone out and my master, the noble Marquis of Carabas, is almost here with the king and the princess. You will lay the finest table you can. You will cook all the best dishes in the pantry. And you will be glad, because life is about to change for the better.”

The servants looked around. No ogre shouted at them. No heavy footsteps shook the hall. Only a determined cat in beautiful boots stood before them, giving clear orders. They had never liked the ogre. So, with a few shrugs and a few smiles they started to cook, clean and polish.

By the time the royal carriage crossed the river bridge and rolled up to the castle gates, candles glowed in every window. The great hall shone and a long table was covered with roast meats, fresh bread, fruit and cakes.

Puss ran outside to meet the guests.

“Welcome, Your Majesty,” he called. “Welcome, Your Highness. Welcome, my lord Marquis of Carabas, to your own castle.”

Tom swallowed hard. “My own castle?” he whispered.

The king looked up at the high stone towers, down at the wide steps and out over the fields that rolled away to the river. He remembered all the reapers and shepherds who had named the Marquis of Carabas as their master. He saw a polite young man standing before him, wearing his clothes with natural grace.

“My dear Marquis,” said the king, “you have hidden your wealth from me for far too long.”

Tom glanced at Puss, who simply flicked his tail and smiled.

“Please, Your Majesty,” Tom said at last, “come in and be my guests.”

Happily Ever After

They feasted until the candles burned low. The king ate heartily and praised every dish. The princess laughed at Puss’s quick remarks and listened to Tom speak about his old life at the mill.

Tom did not pretend he had always been rich. He told the truth about his father, his brothers and the clever cat who had asked for boots and a bag.

The king liked his honesty. The princess liked that he spoke kindly about the workers and servants as well as about himself.

Later, when music filled the hall, the princess held out her hand.

“Will you walk with me on the terrace, my lord?” she asked.

Tom agreed, feeling both shy and happy. Puss followed at a polite distance, pretending to admire the moonlit river.

When they returned, the king stood up.

“My dear daughter,” he said, “and my dear Marquis of Carabas. I have seen how you look at one another. If you both wish it, I will gladly give my blessing for you to marry.”

The princess blushed and smiled. Tom looked at her, then at Puss. Puss gave him a slow blink that meant, Say yes.

“I would be honored, Your Majesty,” Tom answered.

So, very soon, there was a grand wedding in the ogre’s former castle. Bells rang across the fields and echoed over the river. People from every farm and village came to celebrate.

Tom truly became the Marquis of Carabas. He ruled his lands kindly. He made sure the workers were treated fairly. He listened to advice and learned quickly.

As for Puss in Boots, he received a velvet cushion by the fire, a saucer of cream each morning and the freedom to chase as many mice as he liked. He still wore his boots with pride.

Whenever someone asked how a poor miller’s son had married a princess and gained a castle, Tom would smile.

“I started with almost nothing,” he said, “but I had a loyal friend and I chose to trust him.”

Then Puss would purr and add,

“And I had a master brave enough to follow a bold plan. Without courage, even the cleverest cat can do very little.”

And so they all lived happily ever after.