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The Sultan’s closed seraglio

Ducks have always trusted me, and this is their mistake. One foggy morning I whistled a tune, and two hundred mallards formed a neat line behind me. I led them into my kitchen and asked them to pick a leader. They argued till noon. While they voted, I quietly set the table.

Mice ran my bank in Hanover for a season, and they did it well. They kept careful books and nibbled only the interest. One cat ended the whole business. I hired her as a judge. She gave each mouse a fair hearing, and then she gave each a swift sentence.

Pirates boarded our ship off Tunis and asked for gold. I offered them a riddle instead. It was so hard that the captain sat down to think. His crew joined him. They are still there, I believe, and their beards have grown through the deck and out the hull.

Earthquakes are just the ground getting an itch. In the hills of Persia I took a long rake and scratched the worst of it. The ground let out a low sigh. The shaking stopped at once, and the shah gave me a fine rug that I had to hold down.

Rainbows make poor bridges, as I learned in Ireland. I rode up one side with a full pack and a goat. The red was firm, the blue was slick, and the violet gave way at.