'It always does,' observed the farmer; 'perfectly true. Well, what did the poor thing do?'
'At the sound of her cries, the maid came running to her assistance. "Let me look," said she; and with that she gave the princess's eyelid a twitch, and out came a camel, which the maid put in her pocket—'('Ah!' grunted the farmer)—' and then she just twisted up the corner of her headcloth and fished a hundred more of them out of the princess's eye, and popped them all into her pocket with the other.'
Here the bunniah gasped as one who is out of breath, but the farmer looked at him slowly. 'Well?' said he.
'I can't think of anything more now,' replied the bunniah. 'Besides, that is the end; what do you say to it?'
'Wonderful,' replied the farmer, 'and no doubt perfectly true!'
'Well, it is your turn,' said the bunniah. 'I am so anxious to hear your story. I am sure it will be very interesting.'
'Yes, I think it will,' answered the farmer, and he began:
'My father was a very prosperous man. Five cows he had, and three yoke of oxen, and half a dozen buffaloes, and goats in abundance; but of all his possessions the thing he loved best was a mare. A well-bred mare she was—oh, a very fine mare!'
'Yes, yes,' interrupted the bunniah, 'get on!'
'I'm getting on,' said the farmer; 'don't you hurry me! Well, one day, as ill-luck would have it, he rode that mare to market with a torn saddle, which galled her so, that when they got home she had a sore on her back as big as the palm of your hand.'
Yes,' said the bunniah impatiently, 'what next?'
'It was June,' said the farmer, 'and you know how, in June, the air is full of dust-storms with rain at times? Well, the poor beast got dust in that wound, and what's
