As always, please don't rely on the information contained here to get you through an exam or pub-quiz; for that I'd suggest you flick through Peter Ackroyd's excellent retelling of the Tales instead.
The Nun's Priest's Tale: A teeny tiny woman lives in a teeny tiny house with her daughters and various animals including a sheep called Molly, a cock called Chanticleer, and a bunch of hens. You don't need to worry too much about Molly the sheep; she's one of those annoying minor characters who is introduced in the first act and then never shows up again. Ditto the daughters.
The most beautiful of the hens (who is clearly the only one worth mentioning as far as the Nun's Priest is concerned) was called Pertelote and she and Chanticleer were in love.
One morning Chanticleer wakes up having had a terrible dream, which he starts to recount to Pertelote. He dreamt he saw a wild beast, which sounds awfully like a fox from his description, although we do have to remember that Chanticleer is only a rooster and so might find foxes more scary than the rest of us.
Pertelote is less than sympathetic. First she tells him off for being a wimp. Then she points out that Cato says dreams are all a load of rubbish and shouldn't be believed. Finally, being a practical sort of hen, she tells him that dreams are mainly caused by stomach problems. Too much bile, specifically, leads to dreams about things which are orange. Like foxes.
She tells him he needs ro take a laxative (this is centuries ago, remember; these days a good dose of probiotic yoghurt would sort him out) but he won't be able to get his hands on one because there isn't an apothecary in the area. Personally I don't think this is an issue; I'm pretty sure that no hen, regardless of how beautiful she might be, would get very far if she wandered into a chemist and asked for a packet of Dulco-lax. Whatever. She says she knows some herbs which will help but in the meantime he should go and eat some worms.
Chanticleer says thanks but no thanks, and points out that while Cato might have said dreams were all rubbish, other people didn't agree with him. He tells some stories to prove his point: one is about a bloke who had a dream his friend was going to be murdered, and he was; one is about a sailor who dreams he is going to drown at sea, so he doesn't go, but his friends still go and they all drown. Then, being a bird who like to labour a point, Chanticleer goes on to quote some bible stories about dreams which have accurately told the future. I'm sure you know the ones.
Next (and this will come as no great surprise if you have read earlier installments, or know anything at all about the Canterbury Tales and how smutty they are) comes a sex scene. Chanticleer moans that they can't do it in the hen house because the perches are too narrow, and so enjoys some hanky-panky with Pertelote in the yard. Twenty times. Yes, twenty. That is not a misprint. Afterwards Chanticleer struts around the place feeling all manlly. Fair play to him, I suppose.
Meanwhile, there's a fox, who had broken into the yard the night before, lying in wait among the cabbages. It has only just occured to me to wonder how much, if any, of the sex action the fox saw, and what he thought about it. I'm not sure how prudish foxes are. My guess is not very, but what do I know about foxes?
Chanticleer spots the fox and is terrified at first, but overcomes his fears remarkably quickly once the fox starts to flatter him. The fox goes on and on about what a good singer Chanticleer is, and what a good singer his Dad was as well, and asks whether Chanticleer would be so good as to sing him a song? Now, you know as well as I do that foxes who turn up in the middle of stories like this tend to be up to no good, and this one is no exception. Chanticleer is completely taken in by his sweet talk, though. As Peter Ackroyd rather elegantly puts it:
"he did not see an enemy, but an audience"(At this point the Nun's priest claims that what is about to happen is all Pertelote's fault; but this is a bit harsh, if you ask me. Mainly because (slight spoiler alert) I know what's coming for Pertelote and think she deserves some sympathy. But also, the alfresco sex was Chanticleer's bright idea.)
Anyway, Chanticleer stretches his neck out and starts to sing, and the fox grabs him by the neck and runs off. The hens are all distraught; none more so than Pertelote, who promptly throws herself onto the nearest bonfire.
The teeeny tiny woman, her daughters, the rest of the village and a bunch of animals chase after the fox (no mention of Molly the sheep, but a dog called Colin joins in the chase. He's another tragically underdevleoped character; if this was a television show it would definitely be Colin and Molly who end up in the slightly more succesful spin-off series of their own.) Chanticleer tricks the fox into opening his mouth by suggesting now might be a good time to taunt everyone, which the fox does, and Chanticleer flies away to safety.
The moral of the story is don't open your big mouth. Also, never throw yourself onto a bonfire until you have all of the information.
