‘Wisely spoken,’ replied the Caliph. ‘But first, let us consider how we may become men again. It is easy enough! If we bow thrice to the East, and say Mutabor, I shall be Caliph and thou Vizier. But for heaven’s sake no laughing, or we are lost.’
While the Caliph spoke thus, he saw the other stork hovering over their heads, and slowly alighting on the ground. Quickly he snatched the box from his girdle, took a hearty pinch, gave the box to the Grand Vizier, who did the like, and both exclaimed ‘Mutabor!’
Then their legs shrivelled and became thin and red, the beautiful yellow slippers of the Caliph and those of his Vizier changed into ugly storks’ feet, their arms grew into wings, their necks shot up from their shoulders and reached a yard in length, their beards vanished, and soft feathers covered their bodies.
‘You have a pretty beak, Mr. Grand Vizier,’ said the Caliph after a surprised silence. ‘By the beard of the Prophet, I have never seen such things in my life!’ ‘Thanks humbly,’ replied the Vizier, bowing; ‘but if I might dare say so, I should avow that your Highness looks almost handsomer as a stork than a Caliph. But come, if it pleases you, let us listen to our comrades yonder and hear if we really speak storkish.’
Meanwhile the other stork had reached the ground. It cleaned its feet with its beak, settled its feathers, and walked up to the first stork. The two new storks hastened to get near them, and to their surprise heard the following conversation: ‘Good morning, Madam Longlegs! You are early on the meadows.’ ‘Thank you, dear Clapper-beak! I have been to get a little breakfast. Would you like to have a quarter of a lizard or a little leg of a frog?’ ‘Much obliged; but I have no appetite this morning. Besides, I have come upon quite a different errand on the meadow. I am to dance before my father’s guests to-day, and I want to practise a little quietly.’
Thereupon the young stork began to caper about the field in peculiar movements. The Caliph and Mansor watched her, very much surprised. But when she stood on one leg in a picturesque attitude, and fluttered her wings to increase the effect, neither of them could resist; laughter without stopping burst from their beaks, from which they only recovered a long time afterwards. The Caliph was the first to recover self-possession: ‘That was a joke,’ he exclaimed, ‘which cannot be bought for gold. What a pity the stupid animals should have been scared by our laughter, else they would also have sung, to be sure!’
But now it occurred to the Grand Vizier that laughing during the enchantment was forbidden. He therefore communicated his fears to the Caliph. ‘By Mecca and Medina, that would be a bad joke if I were to remain a stork! Do bethink thee of the stupid word; I cannot recall it.’
‘Three times we must bow to the East and say: Mu—Mu—Mu.’
They turned towards the East and kept on bowing continually till their beaks nearly touched the ground. But, alas! the magic word had escaped them, and often as the Caliph bowed, and eagerly as his Vizier added Mu—Mu—, yet every recollection of it had gone, and the poor Chasid and his Vizier were storks, and remained so.
Sadly the enchanted ones wandered through the fields, not knowing what to do in their misery. They could not discard their stork-plumage, nor could they return into the town and make themselves known, for who would have believed that a stork was the Caliph? and even if one had believed it, would the inhabitants of Bagdad accept a stork for a Caliph?