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"It can easily be seen that I only thought I heard the tiny voice say the words! Well, well to work once more." He struck a most solemn blow upon the piece of wood. "Oh, oh! You hurt!" cried the same far-away little voice. Mastro Cherry grew dumb, his eyes popped out of his head, his mouth opened wide, and his tongue hung down on his chin.
The names of the streets had terrible meaning: there was the Vicolo della Corda, and the Corda was the rope by which criminals were hoisted twenty feet in the air, and allowed to drop till their toes were just above the ground; there was the Piazza della Berlina Vecchia, the place of the Old Pillory; there was a little church known as the 'Church of the Gallows'; and there was a lane ominously called Vicolo dello Mastro; the Mastro was the Master of judicial executions, in other words, the Executioner himself.
Zio concluded his story with childlike self-satisfaction: "When I learnt about all this, I was only an apprentice; now I am mastro Nino." These last few days that I have been able to stumble about the room a little, I have had a feeling of delight and happiness such as I have hardly experienced before. The very air is a fete.
His real name was Mastro Antonio, but everyone called him Mastro Cherry, for the tip of his nose was so round and red and shiny that it looked like a ripe cherry. As soon as he saw that piece of wood, Mastro Cherry was filled with joy. Rubbing his hands together happily, he mumbled half to himself: "This has come in the nick of time. I shall use it to make the leg of a table."
How it happened that Mastro Cherry, carpenter, found a piece of wood that wept and laughed like a child. Centuries ago there lived "A king!" my little readers will say immediately. No, children, you are mistaken. Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood. Far from it.
"And where is Father?" he cried suddenly. He ran into the next room, and there stood Geppetto, grown years younger overnight, spick and span in his new clothes and gay as a lark in the morning. He was once more Mastro Geppetto, the wood carver, hard at work on a lovely picture frame, decorating it with flowers and leaves, and heads of animals. "Father, Father, what has happened?
On hearing himself called Polendina, Mastro Geppetto turned the color of a red pepper and, facing the carpenter, said to him angrily: "Why do you insult me?" "Who is insulting you?" "You called me Polendina." "I did not." "I suppose you think I did! Yet I KNOW it was you." "No!" "Yes!" "No!" "Yes!"
His face had changed; fright had turned even the tip of his nose from red to deepest purple. Mastro Cherry gives the piece of wood to his friend Geppetto, who takes it to make himself a Marionette that will dance, fence, and turn somersaults. In that very instant, a loud knock sounded on the door. "Come in," said the carpenter, not having an atom of strength left with which to stand up.
The two little old men, each with his own wig back on his own head, shook hands and swore to be good friends for the rest of their lives. "Well then, Mastro Geppetto," said the carpenter, to show he bore him no ill will, "what is it you want?" "I want a piece of wood to make a Marionette. Will you give it to me?"
Thus having settled their accounts, they shook hands and swore to be good friends for the rest of their lives. Then Geppetto took the fine piece of wood, thanked Mastro Antonio, and limped away toward home. As soon as he gets home, Geppetto fashions the Marionette and calls it Pinocchio. The first pranks of the Marionette. Little as Geppetto's house was, it was neat and comfortable.
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