At these whispered words, the Marionette grew more and more frightened.  He jumped to the ground, ran up to the donkey on whose back he had been riding, and taking his nose in his hands, looked at him.  Think how great was his surprise when he saw that the donkey was weeping—­weeping just like a boy!

“Hey, Mr. Driver!” cried the Marionette.  “Do you know what strange thing is happening here!  This donkey weeps.”

“Let him weep.  When he gets married, he will have time to laugh.”

“Have you perhaps taught him to speak?”

“No, he learned to mumble a few words when he lived for three years with a band of trained dogs.”

“Poor beast!”

“Come, come,” said the Little Man, “do not lose time over a donkey that can weep.  Mount quickly and let us go.  The night is cool and the road is long.”

Pinocchio obeyed without another word.  The wagon started again.  Toward dawn the next morning they finally reached that much-longed-for country, the Land of Toys.

This great land was entirely different from any other place in the world.  Its population, large though it was, was composed wholly of boys.  The oldest were about fourteen years of age, the youngest, eight.  In the street, there was such a racket, such shouting, such blowing of trumpets, that it was deafening.  Everywhere groups of boys were gathered together.  Some played at marbles, at hopscotch, at ball.  Others rode on bicycles or on wooden horses.  Some played at blindman’s buff, others at tag.  Here a group played circus, there another sang and recited.  A few turned somersaults, others walked on their hands with their feet in the air.  Generals in full uniform leading regiments of cardboard soldiers passed by.  Laughter, shrieks, howls, catcalls, hand-clapping followed this parade.  One boy made a noise like a hen, another like a rooster, and a third imitated a lion in his den.  All together they created such a pandemonium that it would have been necessary for you to put cotton in your ears.  The squares were filled with small wooden theaters, overflowing with boys from morning till night, and on the walls of the houses, written with charcoal, were words like these:  Hurrah for the land of toys!  Down with arithmetic!  No more school!

As soon as they had set foot in that land, Pinocchio, Lamp-Wick, and all the other boys who had traveled with them started out on a tour of investigation.  They wandered everywhere, they looked into every nook and corner, house and theater.  They became everybody’s friend.  Who could be happier than they?

What with entertainments and parties, the hours, the days, the weeks passed like lightning.

“Oh, what a beautiful life this is!” said Pinocchio each time that, by chance, he met his friend Lamp-Wick.

“Was I right or wrong?” answered Lamp-Wick.  “And to think you did not want to come!  To think that even yesterday the idea came into your head to return home to see your Fairy and to start studying again!  If today you are free from pencils and books and school, you owe it to me, to my advice, to my care.  Do you admit it?  Only true friends count, after all.”