“But I never eat the core,” cried the marionette, wriggling like a snake.
“All right!” said Geppetto, without getting angry.
The result was that the three cores, instead of being thrown away, were placed on the corner of the table with the skins.
Having eaten, or, to describe it more truly, having devoured, the three pears, Pinocchio gave a long yawn and said, “I am still hungry.”
“But, my boy, I have nothing more to give you.”
“Nothing more, truly?”
“Nothing, except those skins and cores.”
“Oh, well,” said Pinocchio, “if there is nothing more, I will eat the skins.”
And he commenced to eat them. At first he puckered his mouth, but one after another the skins disappeared. After the skins he ate the cores also. When he had eaten everything he clapped his hands contentedly on his little stomach and said, “Now I feel better.”
“You see now,” said Geppetto, “that I was right when I told you that you must accustom yourself to what is given you and not be too dainty. My dear boy, no one ever knows what may happen in this world, so always be prepared for the worst.”
