shudder only to think
of it!"

"Well, then," said the Fox, "you are quite decided to go home? Go, then,
and so much the worse for you."

"So much the worse for you!" repeated the Cat.

"Think well of it, Pinocchio, for you are giving a kick to fortune."

"To fortune!" repeated the Cat.

"Between today and tomorrow your five sovereigns would have become two
thousand."

"Two thousand!" repeated the Cat.

"But how is it possible that they could become so many?" asked
Pinocchio, remaining with his mouth open from astonishment.

"I will explain it to you at once," said the Fox. "You must know that in
the land of the Owls there is a sacred field called by everybody the
Field of Miracles. In this field you must dig a little hole, and you put
into it, we will say, one gold sovereign. You then cover up the hole
with a little earth; you must water it with two pails of water from the
fountain, then sprinkle it with two pinches of salt, and when night
comes you can go quietly to bed. In the meanwhile, during the night, the
gold piece will grow and flower, and in the morning when you get up and
return to the field, what do you find? You find a beautiful tree laden
with as many gold sovereigns as a fine ear of corn has grains in the
month of June."

"So that," said Pinocchio, more and more bewildered, "supposing I buried
my five sovereigns in that field, how many should I find there the
following morning?"

"That is an exceedingly easy calculation," replied the Fox, "a
calculation that you can make on the ends of your fingers. Every
sovereign will give you an increase of five hundred; multiply five
hundred by five, and the following morning will find you with two
thousand five hundred shining gold pieces in your pocket."

"Oh! how delightful!" cried Pinocchio, dancing for joy. "As soon as ever
I have obtained those sovereigns, I will keep two thousand for myself
and the other five hundred I will make a present of to you two."

"A present to us?" cried the Fox with indignation and appearing much
offended. "What are you dreaming of?"

"What are you dreaming of?" repeated the Cat.

"We do not work," said the Fox, "for interest: we work solely to enrich
others."

"Others!" repeated the Cat.

"What good people!" thought Pinocchio to himself, and, forgetting there
and then his papa, the new coat, the spelling-book, and all his good
resolutions, he said to the Fox and the Cat:

"Let us be off at once. I will go with