The caliph
composed himself first. "What a capital joke!" cried he; "I never
saw any thing better in my life; it is a pity that the stupid birds
were frightened away by our laughter, else she would certainly have
sung!"
But it now occurred to the grand vizier that they had been forbidden
to laugh during their transformation. He communicated his anxiety to
the caliph.
"By Mecca and Medina!" cried the caliph, "it would be a pretty piece
of business if I had to remain a stork all my life! Try think of the
stupid word; I can't remember it."
"We must bow three times towards the East, and say, Mu--Mu--Mu--."
They turned to the East, and bowed away till their beaks touched the
ground. But, alas! The magic word had vanished, and with all the
caliph's bowing, and his vizier's crying Mu--Mu--, all recollections
of it had disappeared from their memories, and the poor Chasid and
his vizier still remained storks as before.
The caliph and the grand vizier walked in a melancholy mood through
the fields, not knowing what to do in their sad plight. They could
not get out of their stork-skins, and it would not do for them to go
back to the town to tell any one of their condition. for who would
believe a stork if he said that he was the caliph? And even if they
had believed him, would the inhabitants of Bagdad be willing to have
a stork for their caliph? So they sneaked about for several days,
feeding upon wild fruits, which, however, they could not manage very
well, on account of their long bills.
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