A miller and his son were on their way to sell their donkey at the fair. To keep the creature looking fresh and healthy, so he’d fetch a better price, they didn’t ride but walked beside him patiently.
They passed a fellow in the road who cried, “What’s this? Are men or asses made for footslogs? Beasts of burden should be given burdens! Else adopt it as your son and ride the boy!”
Persuaded by this speech, the miller told his son to mount; they then continued.
Soon they met three greybeard merchants. “That appalls me,” one declared. “The elder’s treated like a lackey while the youngster rides in style! For shame!”
To placate him, the miller’s son dismounted and the miller took his place.
They’d not gone far before three girls expressed their disapproval: “Look at this old fool! He lolls on assback like a pasha while his poor son plods!”
“My dears,” the miller said, “at my age, men can’t loll; now go away.”
But more reproaches, gibes, and insults made him doubt himself; at last, he had his son get on behind him. Almost instantly they met another critic.
“Are you mad, you people? Can’t you see you’re killing that poor donkey? What a way to treat an old and faithful servant! There’ll be nothing but his hide to sell at fair.”
“My goodness,” said the miller. “People can’t be satisfied; you’d have to have cracked wits to even try.”
Nevertheless, he tried again. His son and he, alighting, tied the donkey’s hoofs together, hung it like a chandelier upon a pole, and, lifting it with no small difficulty, carried it some steps that way before an onlooker guffawed, agape.
“What witlessness! What ignorance! What farce! Three asses—and the biggest ass is not the ass!”
“I am an ass, to care what people say,” agreed the miller. “Well, no more.” They laid the donkey down and put him on his feet again.
But now it was the donkey’s turn to hee-haw his complaint: “I’d still be carried, if I had my druthers.”
Do what you think is best; you can’t please others.