Nasrudin heard that there was a banquet being held in the near-by town, and that everyone was invited. He made his way there as quickly as he could.
When the Master of Ceremonies saw him in his ragged cloak, he seated him in the most inconspicuous place far from the great table where the most important people were being waited on hand and foot.
Nasrudin saw that it would be an hour at least before the waiters reached the place where he was sitting, so he got up and went home. He dressed himself in a magnificent sable claok and turban and returned to the feast.
As soon as the heralds of the Emir, his host, saw this splendid sight they started to beat the drum of welcome and sound the trumpets in a manner consonant with a visitor of high rank.
The Chamberlain came out of the palace himself, and conducted the magnificent Nasrudin to a place almost next to the Emir. A dish of wonderful food was immediately placed before him. Without a pause, Nasrudin began to rub handfuls of it into his turban and cloak.
"Your Eminence," said the prince," I am curious as to your eating habits, which are new to me."
"Nothing special," said Narudin; "the cloak got me in here, got me the food. Surely it deserves its portion?"