Suddenly there was a great noise.  He was startled.  Opening one eye, he saw approaching a chief followed by a crowd of attendants.  Judging from the manner in which the new arrivals were received, they were persons of high rank.  At their approach the savages knelt down, raised their hands high in the air, and bent their foreheads to the ground.

A man stepped out from the ranks and came toward Pinocchio.  He examined the marionette from head to foot, while all the others looked on in silence.

When the examination was over the marionette hoped to be left in peace, but another approached him and went through the same performance.  Then came a third, a fourth, a fifth, and so on.

Pinocchio was somewhat tired of this.  As the last one came up he muttered, “Now I shall see what they are going to do with me.”

The man who had first examined Pinocchio now approached him again, and calling the bearers, said, in a tongue which, curiously enough, the marionette understood, “Turn the little animal over!”

Upon hearing himself called an animal, Pinocchio was seized with a mad desire to give his tormentor a kick, but he thought better of it.

   The bearers advanced, took the marionette by the shoulders, and
   rolled him over.

   “Easy! easy! this bed is not too soft,” Pinocchio said to himself.

   A second examination followed, and then another command, “Roll him
   over again!”

“What do you take me for, a top?” muttered the marionette in a burst of rage.  But he pricked up his ears when the man who had been rolling him over turned to another and said, “Your majesty!”

Indeed!” thought Pinocchio, “we are not dealing with ordinary persons!  We are beginning to know great people.  Let me hear what he has to say about me to his black majesty,” and the marionette listened with the deepest attention.

“Your majesty, my knowledge of the noble art of cooking assures me that this creature” — and he gave Pinocchio a kick — “is an animal of an extinct race.  It has been turned into wood, carried by the water to the beach, and then brought here by the wind.”

“Not so bad for a cook,” thought Pinocchio.  He felt half inclined to strike out and hit the nose of the wise savage, who had again knelt down to examine him.

“Your majesty,” continued the cook, “this little animal is dead, because if it were not dead — "

   “It would be alive,” Pinocchio muttered.  “What a beast!  How stupid!”

“Because if it were not dead, it would not be so hard.  To conclude, had it not been made of wood, I could have cooked it for your majesty’s dinner.”

Pinocchio said to himself:  “Listen to this black rascal!  Eaten alive!  What kind of country have I fallen into?  What vulgar people!  It’s lucky for me that I am made of wood!”

His majesty then commanded that as the animal was not good to eat it should be buried.