He counted the donkeys over and over again, and each time he counted six donkeys. "Oh dear," he said, "my wife will be very cross. But I must go home and tell her. Perhaps one of the donkeys has melted in the sun."
He turned the donkeys round, and by sunset he was home again. "Wife, wife," he shouted, "do come at once and count these donkeys. This morning I had seven of them, and now I have only six. But I'm sure that I haven't lost one, and I didn't sell one."
His wife came out into the yard. She counted the donkeys and then she laughed, "There are eight donkeys," she said.
"Eight donkeys?