Then, when it was all over, he put the King together again, and said, with tears in his eyes, 'What a breakfast that was, to be sure! Tell me how you managed to taste so nice, and I'll give you anything you ask.'
Whereupon Bikrû told him the way it was done, and promised to devil himself every morning, if he might have the old coat in return. 'For,' said he, 'it is not pleasant to be fried! and I don't see why I should in addition have the trouble of carrying a hundredweight of gold to the palace every day. Now, if I keep the coat, I can shake it down there.'
To this the faqîr agreed, and off went Bikrû with the coat.
Meanwhile, King Karan came toiling up the hill, and was surprised, when he entered the faqîr's house, to find the fire out, the frying-pan put away, and the faqîr himself as holy as ever, but not in the least hungry.
'Why, what is the matter?' faltered the King.
'Who are you?' asked the faqîr, who, to begin with, was somewhat short-sighted, and in addition felt drowsy after his heavy meal.
'Who! Why, I'm King Karan, come to be fried! Don't you want your breakfast?'
'I've had my breakfast!' sighed the faqîr regretfully. 'You tasted very nice when you were devilled, I can assure you!'
'I never was devilled in my life!' shouted the King; 'you must have eaten somebody else!'
'That's just what I was saying to myself!' returned the faqîr sleepily; 'I thought—it couldn't—be only—the spices—that— '—Snore, snore, snore!