It happened once that Mullah Nasruddin made a long journey on foot to a distant city, and when he arrived there, he was worn out, and extremely hungry. Unfortunately, he was also penniless.

Walking through the streets, he was drawn, as if by a magnet, to a bakery. Inside, the shelves were stacked with golden-brown loaves of bread, and the smell was maddening.

Nasruddin said to the baker, “Are all those loaves of bread yours?”

“Yes, certainly,” said the baker, surprised at the question.

“Really?” asked Nasruddin. “They all belong to you?”

“Yes,” said the baker, becoming irritated. “I told you so, they are all mine.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” demanded Nasruddin. “Why don’t you eat them?”