THE BIRD IN THE FOREST
After two hours of hard running, Pinocchio, still angry at the
treatment he had received, came to a forest. Its better to be a bird
in the bushes than a bird in a cage! he thought.
Although the walk in the forest was refreshing, he began, as usual, to
be hungry. The place was very beautiful, but beauty could not satisfy a
marionettes appetite. He looked here and there in the hope that he
might see trees loaded with the fruit about which the elephant man had
spoken. He saw nothing but branches and leaves, leaves and branches. On
he walked. Both the forest and his hunger seemed without end.
Fortunately Pinocchio was very strong. Being made of wood, he could
endure a great many hardships. He was sure that his good Fairy would
come to help him, so he kept on bravely. He had walked a long way
before he saw a large tree, bearing fruit that resembled oranges.
At last! he cried aloud. The birds flew away at the sound. Pinocchio
climbed over the rocks and up the tree as fast as he could.
I will eat enough to last for a week! he said, as he thought of the
orange peel his father Geppetto had given him for supper.
He picked the largest of the fruit and put it into his mouth. It was as
hard as ivory. He pulled out his penknife, with which he used to
sharpen his pencil at school. With great difficulty he cut the fruit in
two, to find within only a soft, bitter pulp. Then he tried another and
another. All were like the first one, and he gave up trying because he
was at length convinced that none of the fruit was fit to eat.
Tired and unhappy, with bowed head and dangling arms, he pushed on
slowly, stumbling over rocks, and becoming entangled again and again in
the briers. He thought sadly of the disappointments he had met with in
Africa.
It is settled. I am to die of hunger. Where are the delicious fruits
and the precious stones? Should I not do better to go home and leave
the gold and silver to those who want them?
As he went along, thinking over these things, he noticed ahead of him a
bird about the size of a canary, which looked at him as if it longed to
console him in his misery.
It went on before Pinocchio, flying from one branch to another,
stopping when the marionette stopped, and moving every time the
marionette moved. Pinocchio said to himself: Does this dear little
bird wish to be eaten? Ill pluck its feathers, stick a twig through
it, put it in the sun, and in half an hour it will be cooked and ready
to eat.
While the hungry marionette was giving himself up to this thought, the
bird began to sing,
Pinocchio, my dear,
If you would honey eat,
Come closer to me here,
And you will find a treat.
Imagine Pinocchios surprise! He approached the little songster and
looked up. Sure enough, there on a branch of a great tree was a
beehive.
One would think that Pinocchio would at least stop to thank the bird,
but not he! Up the tree he went like a squirrel, while the bees buzzed
about him angrily. The marionette laughed.
Sting away! sting away, brave bees! I am a marionette and made of
wood. You may sting me as much as you please. He thrust his hand into
the hive and drew out a handful of sweet honey.
This time at least I shall not die of hunger.