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Egypt owes its floods to my bathtub. I was washing near Aswan, in a tub carved from one block of stone, when I forgot to turn the tap. The Nile rose and the melons grew. A grateful local ruler sent me his thanks and a rather large bill for carpets.

Nobody could shoe my black stallion, for his feet moved too fast. I ran behind him with a hammer across all of Styria. At each stride I drove in a nail. We finished at Graz, and the smith there gave me his apron and retired on the spot.

Chess with the Czar lasted eleven winters. He moved a pawn. I took a nap. He moved a knight. I had a son. When at last I won, the queen on the board winked at me, and the Czar sent me a sleigh full of plums for my trouble.

Spiders in my attic wove me a fine coat when my tailor died. It took them one summer. The sleeves were light, the collar was warm, and the pockets trapped flies for my lunch. I wore it to court, and three duchesses at once asked for the pattern.

Drums can talk if you beat them politely. I had one at Vidin that gave gossip about the enemy. It.