buttons of brilliants. My poor papa deserves it truly, because in order to buy me an A B C card so that I could learn, he is now in his shirt sleeves, in the cold weather too! There are not many papas who would sacrifice so much.”
While he was talking thus he seemed to hear some music of a fife and strokes of a drum—pi-pi-pi, pi-pi-pi, zum, zum, zum, zum. He stopped to listen. Those sounds came from the end of a long street that led to a small square near the sea. “What is that beautiful music? It is too bad that I have to go to school. If—” And he remained there perplexed. He must decide either to go to school or to hear the fife and drum. “To-day I will go and hear the fife and drum, and to-morrow I will go to school. There is always time to go there,” said the little scoundrel, shrugging his shoulders.
No sooner said than done. He turned down the street and ran as hard as he could. The more he ran, the more distinct became the sound of the fife and drum—pi-pi-pi, pi-pi-pi, pi-pi-pi, zum, zum, zum, zum. He soon found himself in the middle of a square, which was filled with people. They all stood around a little wooden building with a sign painted in many colors.
“What is that house?” asked Pinocchio, turning to a boy standing near.
