Kate DiCamillo - The Tale of Despereaux: Being the Story of a Mouse, a Princess, Some Soup and a Spool of Thread

Also by Kate DiCamillo:

Because of Winn-Dixie
The Magicians Elephant
The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane
The Tiger Rising

Mercy Watson to the Rescue
Mercy Watson Goes for a Ride
Mercy Watson Fights Crime
Mercy Watson: Princess in Disguise
Mercy Watson Thinks Like a Pig
Mercy Watson:
Something Wonky This Way Comes

Great Joy

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

Text copyright 2003 by Kate DiCamillo
Cover and interior illustrations copyright 2003 by Timothy Basil Ering

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

First electronic edition 2009

The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
DiCamillo, Kate.
The tale of Despereaux / Kate DiCamillo ; illustrated by Timothy Basil Ering. 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: The adventures of Despereaux Tilling, a small mouse of unusual talents, the princess that he loves, the servant girl who longs to be a princess, and a devious rat determined to bring them all to ruin.
ISBN 978-0-7636-1722-6 (hardcover)
[1. Fairy tales. 2. Mice Fiction] I. Ering, Timothy B., ill. II. Title.
PZ8.D525 Tal 2003
[Fic] dc21 2002034760

ISBN 978-0-7636-2529-0 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-7636-4943-2 (electronic)

The illustrations for this book were done in pencil.

Candlewick Press
99 Dover Street
Somerville, Massachusetts 02144

visit us at www.candlewick.com

For Luke, who asked for
the story of an unlikely hero

Book the First
A MOUSE IS BORN

Book the Second
CHIAROSCURO

Book the Third
GOR! THE TALE OF MIGGERY SOW

Book the Fourth
RECALLED TO THE LIGHT

The world is dark, and light is precious.
Come closer, dear reader.
You must trust me.
I am telling you a story.

THIS STORY BEGINS within the walls of a castle, with the birth of a mouse. A small mouse. The last mouse born to his parents and the only one of his litter to be born alive.

Where are my babies? said the exhausted mother when the ordeal was through. Show to me my babies.

The father mouse held the one small mouse up high.

There is only this one, he said. The others are dead.

Mon Dieu, just the one mouse baby?

Just the one. Will you name him?

All of that work for nothing, said the mother. She sighed. It is so sad. It is such the disappointment. She was a French mouse who had arrived at the castle long ago in the luggage of a visiting French diplomat. Disappointment was one of her favorite words. She used it often.

Will you name him? repeated the father.

Will I name him? Will I name him? Of course, I will name him, but he will only die like the others. Oh, so sad. Oh, such the tragedy.

The mouse mother held a handkerchief to her nose and then waved it in front of her face. She sniffed. I will name him. Yes. I will name this mouse Despereaux, for all the sadness, for the many despairs in this place. Now, where is my mirror?

Her husband handed her a small shard of mirror. The mouse mother, whose name was Antoinette, looked at her reflection and gasped aloud. Toulse, she said to one of her sons, get for me my makeup bag. My eyes are a fright.

While Antoinette touched up her eye makeup, the mouse father put Despereaux down on a bed made of blanket scraps. The April sun, weak but determined, shone through a castle window and from there squeezed itself through a small hole in the wall and placed one golden finger on the little mouse.

The other, older mice children gathered around to stare at Despereaux.

His ears are too big, said his sister Merlot. Those are the biggest ears Ive ever seen.

Look, said a brother named Furlough, his eyes are open. Pa, his eyes are open. They shouldnt be open.

It is true. Despereauxs eyes should not have been open. But they were. He was staring at the sun reflecting off his mothers mirror. The light was shining onto the ceiling in an oval of brilliance, and he was smiling up at the sight.

Theres something wrong with him, said the father. Leave him alone.

Despereauxs brothers and sisters stepped back, away from the new mouse.

This is the last, proclaimed Antoinette from her bed. I will have no more mice babies. They are such the disappointment. They are hard on my beauty. They ruin, for me, my looks. This is the last one. No more.

The last one, said the father. And hell be dead soon. He cant live. Not with his eyes open like that.

But, reader, he did live.

This is his story.

DESPEREAUX TILLING LIVED.

But his existence was cause for much speculation in the mouse community.

Hes the smallest mouse Ive ever seen, said his aunt Florence. Its ridiculous. No mouse has ever, ever been this small. Not even a Tilling. She looked at Despereaux through narrowed eyes as if she expected him to disappear entirely. No mouse, she said again. Ever.

Despereaux, his tail wrapped around his feet, stared back at her.

Those are some big ears hes got, too, observed his uncle Alfred. They look more like donkey ears, if you ask me.

They are obscenely large ears, said Aunt Florence.

Despereaux wiggled his ears.

His aunt Florence gasped.

They say he was born with his eyes open, whispered Uncle Alfred.

Despereaux stared hard at his uncle.

Impossible, said Aunt Florence. No mouse, no matter how small or obscenely large-eared, is ever born with his eyes open. It simply isnt done.

His pa, Lester, says hes not well, said Uncle Alfred.

Despereaux sneezed.

He said nothing in defense of himself. How could he? Everything his aunt and uncle said was true. He was ridiculously small. His ears were obscenely large. He