dle, to show that he had understood, shook the case of blue
satin three or four times and ran off like a race-horse.

Shortly afterwards a beautiful little carriage came out of the
coach-house. The cushions were stuffed with canary feathers and it was
lined on the inside with whipped cream, custard and vanilla wafers. The
little carriage was drawn by a hundred pairs of white mice, and the
Poodle, seated on the coach-box, cracked his whip from side to side like
a driver when he is afraid that he is behind time.

Scarcely had a quarter of an hour passed, when the carriage returned.
The Fairy, who was waiting at the door of the house, took the poor
puppet in her arms and carried him into a little room that was
wainscoted with mother-of-pearl. She sent at once to summon the most
famous doctors in the neighborhood.

They came immediately, one after the other: namely, a Crow, an Owl, and
a Talking-Cricket.

"I wish to know from you, gentlemen," said the Fairy, "if this
unfortunate puppet is alive or dead!"

At this request the Crow, advancing first, felt Pinocchio's pulse; he
then felt his nose and then the little toe of his foot: and, having done
this carefully, he pronounced solemnly the following words:

"To my belief the puppet is already quite dead; but, if unfortunately he
should not be dead, then it would be a sign that he is still alive!"

"I regret," said the Owl, "to be obliged to contradict the Crow, my
illustrious friend and colleague; but, in my opinion the puppet is still
alive; but, if unfortunately he should not be alive, then it would be a
sign that he is dead indeed!"

"And you--have you nothing to say?" asked the Fairy of the
Talking-Cricket.

"In my opinion, the wisest thing a prudent doctor can do, when he does
not know what he is talking about, is to be silent. For the rest, that
puppet there has a face that is not new to me. I have known him for some
time!"

Pinocchio, who up to that moment had lain immovable, like a real piece
of wood, was seized with a fit of convulsive trembling that shook the
whole bed.

"That puppet there," continued the Talking-Cricket, "is a confirmed
rogue."

Pinocchio opened his eyes, but shut them again immediately.

"He is a ragamuffin, a do-nothing, a vagabond."

Pinocchio hid his face beneath the clothes.

"That puppet there is a disobedient son who will make his poor father
die of a broken heart!"

At that instant a suffocated sound of sobs and crying