Pinocchio ran toward the farmer and said to him, “Will you please give me some milk?”
“How much do you want?”
“I want a glassful.”
“A glass of milk costs one cent. Where is the money?”
“I have nothing,” cried Pinocchio, mortified.
“If you have no money, I have no milk.”
“I am so sorry!” said Pinocchio.
“Wait a minute,” said the farmer; “I think we can arrange it. Do you know how to draw water from a well?”
“I can try.”
“Well, draw me one hundred bucketfuls and I will give you a glass of milk.”
“All right!”
Pinocchio worked so hard that when he had finished he was wet with perspiration from head to foot. He had never felt so tired in all his life.
“I have a little donkey that draws water for me; but to-day he is sick, poor thing!”
“May I see him?” asked Pinocchio.
“Certainly.”
As soon as Pinocchio saw the donkey he recognized him. “I think I know that donkey,” said he. Speaking to it in the donkey language, he asked, “Who are you?” At the question the donkey
