The innkeeper stood in one corner and watched
the affair; he did not at all know what to say, but thought, “Thou
couldst easily find a use for such a cook as that in thy kitchen.” The
joiner and his comrades made merry until late into the night; at length
they lay down to sleep, and the young apprentice also went to bed, and
set his magic table against the wall. The host’s thoughts, however, let
him have no rest; it occurred to him that there was a little old table
in his lumber-room which looked just like the apprentice’s and he
brought it out quite softly, and exchanged it for the wishing-table.
Next morning, the joiner paid for his bed, took up his table, never
thinking that he had got a false one, and went his way. At mid-day he
reached his father, who received him with great joy. “Well, my dear
son, what hast thou learnt?” said he to him. “Father, I have become a
joiner.”
“A good trade,” replied the old man; “but what hast thou brought back
with thee from thy apprenticeship?” “Father, the best thing which I
have brought back with me is this little table.” The tailor inspected
it on all sides and said, “Thou didst not make a masterpiece when thou
mad’st that; it is a bad old table.” “But it is a table which furnishes
itself,” replied the son. “When I set it out, and tell it to cover
itself, the most beautiful dishes stand on it, and a wine also, which
gladdens the heart. Just invite all our relations and friends, they
shall refresh and enjoy themselves for once, for the table will give
them all they require.” When the company was assembled, he put his
table in the middle of the room and said, “Little table, cover
thyself,” but the little table did not bestir itself, and remained just
as bare as any other table which did not understand language. Then the
poor apprentice became aware that his table had been changed, and was
ashamed at having to stand there like a liar. The relations, however,
mocked him, and were forced to go home without having eaten or drunk.
The father brought out his patches again, and went on tailoring, but
the son went to a master in the craft.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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