THERE  WAS once a farmer who lived in China.  He was very poor. He had no money, but he had a very good  garden.

     Every day he worked in his garden.  He grew vegetables, sugar cane, and fruit.  He sang as he worked because he was happy.

     One day he found an old pot.  It was a big, black pot.  He had never seen it before.  He took off the lid and looked inside it.

     As he looked into it, the wind blew off his hat.  It fell into the pot.

     The farmer took his hat out of the pot and put it on his head.

     As he did this, another hat came into the pot.

     He took it out.  Now he had two hats!

      As he took it out, another one came.  Now he had three hats!

     He took that one out, and the next one, and the next one.  Every time he took a hat out of the pot, another one came.

     At last he had more than a hundred hats.  They were all around him.  His garden was full of hats.

     He looked at the hats, and he laughed.

I will drop in this ten cent piece

     "I can't wear all those hats," he said.  "One hats would look silly."

     Then he said to himself, "If this pot can make hats, perhaps it can make money, too, I will drop in this ten cent piece and see what happens."

     The same thing happened.  As he took each ten cent piece out of the pot, another appeared.

     "Wife! Wife!" he called.  "Come and see.  At last we are rich.  We now have money to buy a buffalo.  We have got a lot of nice new hats too!  Come and see."

     "Hats.... what do you mean?" asked his wife.  "You know that we have only got one hat, and that's very old.  You wear it, and I wear it, too, when I work in the garden."

     When she saw the hats and the money, her eyes grew large, and she sat down.

     "Goodness me!"  she said. "You are quite right.  We are rich, and we do have a lot of nice new hats!"  Then she ran off and told her friends about the magic pot, and the money and the hats.

     Soon everybody knew about the magic pot.  Even Ping Lam heard about it.

     Ping Lam was a rich man but not a good man.  He had a lot of money, but he wanted more.

     When he heard about the magic pot, he went to the poor farmer's house and took the pot away.

     The poor farmer did not like this.  He wanted his pot back.  He was very angry with Ping Lam.

     "Because he is a big strong man, he has taken my pot," he said.  "I shall go to the judge and tell him what has happened.  I want my pot back.  Ping Lam has no right to take my things."

     But the judge was a bad man.  He wanted the pot for himself.  He did not want Ping Lam to have it.  He did not want the farmer to have it.

     "You found the pot in your garden.  You did not buy it.  It does not belong to you," he said to the farmer.  "It is not your pot.  Go away.  I shall keep the magic pot, myself."

     Then the judge said to Ping Lam, "You should not have taken the pot from the farmer.  You are a bad man, Ping Lam.  Go away.  I shall keep the magic pot, my self."

     The poor farmer and Ping Lam went away.  There was nothing they could do.  They went back to their homes.

     The judge was very happy.  He took the pot back to his house.

     He called to his old father, "Father.  Come and see this magic pot."

     His father was old and could not see very well. He leaned closer to look at the magic pot but lost his balance and fell inside it!

     "Goodness me!" said the judge.  "This will not do.  Get out, father.  Get out of my pot."

      He helped the old man to get out of the pot.

      But another old man came into it.  He helped that old man out, and as he did so, another old man came!

      Soon, more than a hundred old men were round the judge.  There were old men everywhere.  They were standing by him; they were sitting on the table; they were lying on the floor; the house was full of old men!

      The judge did not know which old man was his father.  Whenever he spoke, they all answered him.  Whenever he put his food on the table, they all ate it.  He did not know what to do.

      At last he called the poor farmer to his house.

     "Take your pot back to your own house," he said.  "I don't want it here.  Goodness knows what will happen next.  I might wake up in the morning and find a hundred new mothers.  It's bad enough to have to find food for so many fathers.  I don't want more mothers as well!"

      The poor farmer took the magic pot back to his own house.  Soon he was no longer a poor farmer.  He was a rich man.  He had a lot of money, he still had a hundred hats.

If you ever see a farmer with a hundred hats, you will know where they came from.  But, be careful of the pot!