“What do you mean?”
“Should you like to make of those miserable five pieces, ten? a hundred? a thousand?”
“Why, of course! And how can you do it?”
“It is very easy. Instead of going home, come with us.”
“And where do you want to take me?”
“To the Country of the Owl.”
Pinocchio thought a little and then said resolutely: “No, I will not go. My father expects me. Who knows but that the poor old man, when I did not return yesterday, was worried and wept for me? I have been a bad boy, and the Talking Cricket was right when he said, ‘Disobedient boys never get along well in this world.’ I have had one experience because I was bad. Only last night, at the house of Fire Eater, I was in great danger. Brrr! It makes me tremble to think of it.”
“Then,” said the Fox, “you want to go home? All right! Go home, but it will be the worse for you.”
“Yes, it will be the worse for you,” said the Cat.
“Think well, Pinocchio, for you have thrown away a fortune.”
“A fortune,” said the Cat.
“Your five pieces might be two thousand by to-morrow.”
