THE THIEF OF BAGDAD 133
is the magic carpet of Isfahan—the flying carpet of Isfahan!”
"What?" interrupted the Prince with rising excitement. "You don't mean to say that it is really . . ."
"Yes! I mean it! There is no doubt of it! It is the magic carpet! Stand on it! Sit on it! Squat on it! Then tell the rug where you wish to go! And—swish, swish, swish! like the shooting of dragon-flies—it will rise into the air, it will cut through the sky, high up, above the roofs, above the clouds, and carry you wherever you command. Hai—ho—hee!" he laughed vindictively, triumphantly—"for years it has been in this bazar—for all the world's fools to spit on and wipe their feet on. And none knew! None knew!"
"Thank you, thank you!" exclaimed the Prince, while the servants stowed away the magic carpet in the litter. "Name your reward!"
"Don't thank me—yet!" sneered Hakim Ali. "For, doubtless, you will win Zobeid with this rug."
"That is just why I am thanking you!"
