Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi

understand?”
    The Poodle wagged the sky-blue satin cover three or four times, to show that he understood, and then raced off like a Barbary steed.
    Out of the carriage house, moments later, there came a beautiful little sky-colored carriage, padded on the outside with canary feathers and lined on the inside with whipped cream, custard, and ladyfingers. It was drawn by a hundred pairs of white mice, and the Poodle, up on the driver’s seat, was cracking his whip from side to side, like someone who’s afraid he’s running late.
    In less than a quarter of an hour, the little carriage was back. The Fairy, waiting at the door of the house, took the poor puppet in her arms and carried him into a small room with mother-of-pearl walls. Then she quickly sent for the most famous doctors in the area.
    The doctors soon arrived, one after the other. The first was a crow, the second an owl, and the third a talking cricket.
    â€œI would like you gentlemen to tell me,” said the Fairy, looking at the three doctors gathered around Pinocchio’s bed, “I would like you gentlemen to tell me whether this unlucky puppet is alive or dead!”
    Hearing this request, the Crow stepped forward first. He felt Pinocchio’s pulse, then he felt his nose, then he felt his little toe, and when he had finished feeling all these things very carefully, he solemnly pronounced these words: “It is my opinion that the puppet is quite dead. But if by some strange chance he is not dead, then that would be a sure sign that he is still alive.”
    â€œI regret,” said the Owl, “that I must contradict my illustrious friend and colleague, the Crow. I believe, rather, that the puppet is still alive. But if by some strange chance he is not alive, then that would indicate that he is, in fact, dead.”
    â€œAnd you—do you have nothing to say?” the Fairy asked the Talking Cricket.
    â€œI say that the best thing a prudent doctor can do when he doesn’t know what he’s talking about is to keep his mouth shut. And as for that puppet there, his countenance is not new to me—I’ve known him for some time!”
    Pinocchio had been lying motionless, like a true piece of wood, but at these words he began shuddering feverishly, causing the whole bed to shake.
    â€œThat puppet there,” continued the Talking Cricket, “is a confirmed rogue.”
    Pinocchio opened his eyes and quickly shut them again.
    â€œHe’s a ragamuffin, a lazybones, a vagabond.”
    Pinocchio hid his face beneath the sheets.
    â€œThat puppet there is a disobedient brat who will cause his poor father to die of a heart attack!”
    Now everyone in the room could hear the muffled sound of crying and sobbing. Imagine their reaction when, after peering under the sheets, they realized that those cries and sobs were coming from Pinocchio.
    â€œWhen a dead person cries, it’s a sign that he’s on the mend,” said the Crow solemnly.
    â€œIt grieves me to contradict my illustrious friend and colleague,” added the Owl, “but I believe that when a dead person cries, it’s a sign that he doesn’t like dying.”

17
    A S SOON as the three doctors had left the room, the Fairy went to Pinocchio’s side and discovered, by touching his forehead, that he was suffering from a terribly high fever.
    She then dissolved a special white powder in half a glass of water and offered it to the puppet, saying lovingly, “Drink it, and in a few days you will be cured.”
    Pinocchio looked at the glass, scrunched up his mouth, and then asked in a whiny voice: “Is it sweet or bitter?”
    â€œIt’s bitter, but it will do you good.”
    â€œIf it’s bitter, I don’t want it.”
    â€œListen to me: drink it.”
    â€œI don’t like bitter stuff.”
    â€œDrink it—and after you do, I’ll give you a lump of sugar, to take away the