The neighbour laughed in his sleeve.
"If this Khoja is mad," said he, "a sensible man like myself need not refuse to profit by his whims."
So he replied, "It is well, O Khoja! The pan is a very good pan. May its posterity be increased!"
And he took the Khoja's pan as well as his own, and the Khoja departed.
After a few days the Khoja came again to borrow the big pan, which his neighbour lent him willingly, saying to himself, "Doubtless something else will come back in it." But after he had waited two—three—four—and five days, and the Khoja did not return it, the neighbour betook himself to the Khoja's house and asked for his pan.
The Khoja came to the door with a sad countenance.
"Allah preserve you, neighbour!" said he. "May your health be better than that of our departed friend, who will return to you no more. The big pan is dead."
"Nonsense, Khoja Effendi!" said the neighbour, "You know well enough that a pan cannot die."
"You were quite willing to believe that it had had a child," said the Khoja; "it seems odd you cannot believe that it is dead."