On Friday, when other folk were returning quietly homewards to their work after their prayers, Labakan strutted out from the mosque, decked in fine clothes, which had cost him a good deal of trouble to procure, and paraded himself through the streets and squares of the city. When any of his companions met him and saluted him with: “Peace be with thee,” or “How is it with thee to-day, friend Labakan?” he would merely reply by a wave of the hand, or a dignified nod. Sometimes his master would say to him in a joke: “What a fine prince you would make, to be sure, Labakan.” Then, instead of seeing he was being laughed at, he would be delighted and replied--“So you have noticed that too, my master? I have long thought so myself.” And so the foolish apprentice would go on, but his master put up with his nonsense because he was not only a very clever workman, but a good fellow too. But one day the Sultan’s brother Selim, who happened to be travelling through Alexandria, sent a robe to Labakan’s master to have some slight alteration made. The work was given to Labakan, because his work was finer than that of any of the other apprentices. In the evening, when the master and the men had all gone home to enjoy a little well-earned rest and amusement after the labours of the day, an irresistible longing drew Labakan back to the workshop, for he wished to feast his eyes upon the Prince Selim’s robe. For some time he stood before it admiring the gold embroidery and the brilliant colours of the silk and velvet, until at length he could resist no longer and put it on. It fitted him exactly as though it had been made for him. “Do I not make as fine a prince as Selim?” he asked himself, strutting backwards and forwards across the room. “How often has the master himself told me that I was born to be a prince!”