Canonical host variant

Laughter was banned in Krakow by a sad old king. I arrived in town with a feather. I crept into his room that same night and went to work on his feet. The palace shook, the ban was lifted, and I got three castles and a lifelong tickling contract.

Ants carried off my dinner table in Ceylon with me still seated at it. They moved in good order, and I kept eating. Soon we arrived at their hill. Their queen rose, gave a short speech, and asked me to pass the salt. I have rarely met better hosts.

Sleep came hard to a Carpathian bear I met, so I read him my poems. He was out by the second page. He slept all winter, and I took his cave. In April he rose, thanked me kindly, and asked for the rest, and I ran for my life.

Dice betrayed me only once, in a game with a small red gentleman near Lemberg. I lost my hat and won his tail. We traded back at dawn, since it did not suit either of us. He still writes each New Year, and his handwriting is dreadful.

Up at the North Pole there is a real pole.