Pinocchio is hungry and looks for an egg to cook himself an omelet; but, to his
surprise, the omelet flies out of the window
If the Cricket's death scared Pinocchio at all, it was only for a very few moments.
For, as night came on, a queer, empty feeling at the pit of his stomach reminded
the Marionette that he had eaten nothing as yet.
A boy's appetite grows very fast, and in a few moments the queer, empty feeling
had become hunger, and the hunger grew bigger and bigger, until soon he was
as ravenous as a bear.
Poor Pinocchio ran to the fireplace where the pot was boiling and stretched out
his hand to take the cover off, but to his amazement the pot was only painted!
Think how he felt! His long nose became at least two inches longer.
He ran about the room, dug in all the boxes and drawers, and even looked under
the bed in search of a piece of bread, hard though it might be, or a cookie, or
perhaps a bit of fish. A bone left by a dog would have tasted good to him! But he
found nothing.
And meanwhile his hunger grew and grew. The only relief poor Pinocchio had
was to yawn; and he certainly did yawn, such a big yawn that his mouth
stretched out to the tips of his ears. Soon he became dizzy and faint. He wept
and wailed to himself: "The Talking Cricket was right. It was wrong of me to
disobey Father and to run away from home. If he were here now, I wouldn't be so
hungry! Oh, how horrible it is to be hungry!"
Suddenly, he saw, among the sweepings in a corner, something round and white
that looked very much like a hen's egg. In a jiffy he pounced upon it. It was an
egg.
The Marionette's joy knew no bounds. It is impossible to describe it, you must
picture it to yourself. Certain that he was dreaming, he turned the egg over and
over in his hands, fondled it, kissed it, and talked to it:
"And now, how shall I cook you? Shall I make an omelet? No, it is better to fry
you in a pan! Or shall I drink you? No, the best way is to fry you in the pan. You
will taste better."
No sooner said than done. He placed a little pan over a foot warmer full of hot
coals. In the pan, instead of oil or butter, he poured a little water. As soon as the
water started to boil--tac!--he broke the eggshell. But in place of the white and
the yolk of the egg, a little yellow Chick, fluffy and gay and smiling, escaped from
it. Bowing politely to Pinocchio, he said to him:
"Many, many thanks, indeed, Mr. Pinocchio, for having saved me the trouble of
breaking my shell! Good-by and good luck to you and remember me to the
family!"
With these words he spread out his wings and, darting to the open window, he
flew away into space till he was out of sight.
The poor Marionette stood as if turned to stone, with wide eyes, open mouth, and
the empty halves of the egg-shell in his hands. When he came to himself, he
began to cry and shriek at the top of his lungs, stamping his feet on the ground
and wailing all the while:
"The Talking Cricket was right! If I had not run away from home and if Father
were here now, I should not be dying of hunger. Oh, how horrible it is to be
hungry!"
And as his stomach kept grumbling more than ever and he had nothing to quiet it
with, he thought of going out for a walk to the near-by village, in the hope of
finding some charitable person who might give him a bit of bread.