One day I went to him and asked, “Uncle, would it be all right if some time I were to go to your patch and eat all the melon I want?” Uncle willingly answered, “Sure, that would be fine.”

       So I sent word to all the children that anyone wanting to eat melon should bring a burlap bag and gather in front of my house at midnight. At midnight I led them to my uncle’s melon patch and told them, “I want all of you to pick a row of melons, and don’t worry about anything.” The children shouted with joy and ran into the melon patch. It took only a few minutes for several rows of melons to be picked clean. That night the hungry children of the village sat in a clover field and ate melons until their stomachs almost burst.

      The next day there was big trouble. I went to my uncle’s home, and it was in pandemonium, like a beehive that had been poked. “You rascal,” my uncle shouted at me. “Was this your doing? Are you the one who ruined my entire year’s work of raising melons?”

       No matter what he said, I was not going to back down. “Uncle,” I said, “don’t you remember? You told me I could eat all the melons I wanted. The village children wanted to eat melons, and their desire was my desire. Was it right for me to give them a melon each, or should I absolutely not have given them any?” When he heard this, my uncle said, “All right. You’re right.” That was the end of his anger.