The caliph approved of the vizier's proposal, and went with him
towards the pond. When they got there, they saw a stork, walking
gravely back and forth, searching for frogs, and occasionally
chattering something to himself. At the same time they saw another
stork soaring high in the air, above the place.
"I will wager my beard, most gracious Sir," said the grand vizier,
"that these two long-legs are carrying on a fine conversation
together. What say you to turning ourselves into storks?"
"Well said!" answered the caliph. "But let us see; how is it that
one is to become man again?"
"O, yes! we are to bow three times towards the East, and say,
Mutabor, and then I am caliph again, and you vizier. But for
Heaven's sake don't laugh, or we are lost!"
While the caliph was speaking, he saw the other stork come sailing
down over their heads, and settle in a business manner on the
ground. Quickly he drew the box from his girdle, took a good pinch
of the powder, and handed it to the grand vizier, who also took a
pinch, and then both cried out, "Mutabor!"
Immediately their legs shrivelled up, and became thin and red; the
beautiful yellow slippers of the caliph and his companion turned
into clumsy stork-feet; their arms became wings; their necks
stretched out from their shoulders, and were an ell long; their
beards disappeared, and their bodies were covered with soft
feathers, instead of clothes.
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