“That is my picture! That lady is the Fairy!” said Pinocchio to himself, recognizing her instantly. He tried to cry, “Oh, my Fairy! oh, my Fairy!” But instead of these words there came from his throat such a braying that everybody laughed, especially the boys.
Then the master, in order to teach him better manners than to bray at the audience, gave him a blow on the nose with the handle of the whip. The poor donkey licked his nose at least a dozen times because it pained him so. But what was his desperation when, turning around a second time and looking toward the Fairy, he found that she had disappeared.
He thought he should die. His eyes filled with tears and he began to cry. No one, however, saw it, not even the master, who, cracking his whip, cried, “Now show the people how well you can dance.”
Pinocchio tried two or three times; but every time he came before the audience his feet slipped from under him. Finally, in a great effort, his hind foot slipped so badly that he fell to the floor in a heap. When he got up he was so lame that he could hardly walk and had to be taken to his stall.
“Bring out Pinocchio! We want the donkey! Bring him out!” cried the boys in the theater,
