“Abul Hassan, is that so?”
The boy who acted the part of Abul said that it was.
“Let the olive merchants be brought into court,” commanded the pretended Cadi.
The boys who were taking the parts of olive merchants now came forward.
“Tell me,” said the feigned Cadi, “how long is it possible to keep olives?”
“However great the care that is taken,” they answered, “it is impossible to preserve them for more than three years. After that time they lose both color and flavor and are fit for nothing but to be thrown out.” The boys spoke with assurance, for their fathers were among the most expert olive dealers in the city, and they knew what they were talking about.
The pretended Cadi then bade them examine the olives in the jar and tell him how old they were. “As you see,” said he, “they are of a fine color, large, and of a delicious fresh taste.”
The feigned merchants pretended to examine them carefully and then announced the olives were of that year’s growth.
“But Ali Cogia says he left them with Abul Hassan seven years ago, and to this statement Abul Hassan agrees.”
“It is impossible they should have been kept that long,” answered the feigned merchants. “As we tell you, after three years olives are worth nothing, and at the end of seven years they would be utterly spoiled. These are fresh olives and of this year’s growth.”