Joseph: "Tell me, are other children like our Jesus?"

He answered; "So far as I know them--he is different."

One day, when Jesus was a little older, something happened. Joseph had
gone with the boy to the place where the boats land, in order to offer
his baskets for sale. There was a stir among the people: soldiers in
brilliant uniforms and carrying long spears marched along; then came
two heralds blowing their horns as if they would split the air with
their sharp tones; and behind came six black slaves drawing a golden
chariot in which sat Pharaoh. He was a pale man with piercing eyes,
dressed in costly robes, a sparkling coronet on his black, twisted
hair. The people shouted joyfully, but he heeded them not; he leaned
back wearily on his cushions. But all at once he lifted his head a
little; a boy in the crowd, the stranger basket-maker's little son,
attracted his attention. Whether it was his beauty or something
unusual about the boy that struck him, we cannot say, but he ordered
the carriage to be stopped, and the child to be brought to him.

Joseph humbly came forward with the boy, crossed his hands on his
breast, and made a deep obeisance.

"That is your son?" said the king in his own language.

Joseph bowed affirmatively.

"You are a Jew! Will you sell me the boy?" asked Pharaoh.

And then Joseph: "Pharaoh! although I am a descendant of Jacob, whose
sons sold their brother Joseph into Egypt, I do not deserve your irony.