There was once a king who reigned over a small kingdom in north central Lanka. He had a beautiful daughter who was the cynosure of all eyes. The princess, of course, was reserved for a royal line. However, encouraged by his ambitious wife, the leading tom-tom beater in the king’s hewisi troupe, a man who had achieved prosperity through his own talents, had his eyes on her for their own son.
One evening, while the king was returning from a hunt in the forest, the tom-tom beater, having caught an egret from the local wewa (irrigation tank), hid himself well in a large and leafy na tree beside the king’s route to the palace. As the king passed the tom-tom beater lit a fire to attract his attention.
“O King, O King”, cried the tom-tom beater, “I am the devatava (protective spirit) of this forest. Wilt thou hearken to what I am saying?”. The king, startled by the fire that seemed to float within the tree, said, “I shall hearken”. “It is said that the princess will only marry a prince but, if that be the case, great misfortune will befall thy kingdom”, said the tom-tom beater, “so she must marry a commoner”.
At this point the tom-tom beater tied the flames to the egret and set the bird free. The king, having seen a flame floating away, was convinced that it was a god who spoke to him. The tom-tom beater quietly descended the tree after the king departed and repaired to his village.
At the earliest propitious time the tom-tom beater proposed to the king that it was his handsome son who should betrothe the princess. Recalling the advice of the forest spirit the king agreed, despite the misgivings of his advisors and the ancient traditions that barred such unions.
Soon the wedding was celebrated and the tom-tom beater came to the palace to claim his daughter-in-law. However, the social mores of that time dictated that discretion be used when commoners married into royalty. Accordingly, the tom-tom beater and his son placed the princess in a large sack, tied it to a pole, and carried her out of the palace in that fashion, with the pole resting on their shoulders and the small wedding party following.
By and by they came upon a large kumbuk tree beside a river which offered them 
shade from the hot sun; here they decided to recuperate from their morning’s exertions and have a bite to eat. Laying the sack underneath the tree the celebrants went to a small ambalama (resting place) nearby to sit and eagerly ingest the comestibles that came from the palace kitchen.
Soon another party arrived and these people were carrying a very similar sack, this kind of conveyance being common at the time. Therein, though, was a man-eating bear that they had captured and it was being brought to the river to be drowned. This party, too, decided to have a picnic before killing the dangerous bear and also headed for the ambalama.
The wedding party enjoyed their lunch, during which time they celebrated by imbibing a good quantity of liquor, and eventually, in a jolly mood, picked up their sack (oh, the poor princess!) and off they went. Readers will, of course, realize that a mixup of the sacks was inevitable and integral to this tale. Sure enough, the princess was taken by the other party and thrown into the river.
She was lucky because her screams got her rescued and she was taken by the bear hunters to the palace of their king. Naturally, the king could not resist the beauty and charms of the princess and he made her his queen; as you will have anticipated dear Reader, they lived happily ever after and gave rise to a line that united the two kingdoms.
The tom-tom beater’s party took their sack home and, since night had descended by the time they reached the village, the sack was placed directly in the ‘honeymoon suite’. Soon the toddy-addled tom-tom beater’s son gently opened the sack to shower affection on his new wife. Imagine his surprise! A savage attack by the killer bear followed which dispatched the groom to kingdom come. Hearing the commotion the mother-in-law peeked in, only to be mauled by the enraged ursine which then made its escape.
This parable teaches us that disaster usually follows deception.
From a story related by a farmer in north-central Sri Lanka.
Adapted by ACY/FMC from ‘Village Folk Tales of Ceylon’ by H. Parker (1910, republished 1972 by Tisara Prakaasakayo).