Pinocchio thought of playing the usual trick upon his ministers by placing Marameho in his seat; but this was an important affair, and must be attended to in person.

   “Dignitaries! chamberlains! ministers! royal judges! guards!  To the
   court!”

The persons called came forward and knelt down to kiss the earth before his majesty; then, rising, they all moved on to the court of justice.

Beneath a canopy of ostrich feathers, held aloft by a stately African, walked Pinocchio the First, Emperor and King of all the African kings.  He was wrapped in a large green and red cloak covered with precious stones, that is to say, with bits of broken glass of all colors, and shining pebbles collected with great labor from the rich mines of the country.

The court was to sit in the open air.  This greatly pleased Pinocchio, for the day was very beautiful.  When his majesty arrived all the great crowd of people knelt and buried their heads in their hands.  They did not rise till the judges were comfortably seated on the bare ground.

At a signal from the emperor the first case was called.  There appeared two men, each with his head completely covered by a large bag which had in it holes for eyes and mouth.  The men bowed again and again to his highness and to the court, scraping their noses along the ground.  At last they stood stiff and erect like posts.

The grand chamberlain made a sign to Pinocchio, and his majesty, turning to one of the men, asked, “What brings you before the emperor’s court?”

The person addressed twisted his whole body and sprinkled sand over his head.  Finally he said, “There was once — "

“A king!” thought Pinocchio, “Is he going to tell a story?  I, for one, should be pleased.  African stories must be amusing.”

“There was once an old man — a kind old man — blacker than I am, who had many sons, and I was one of them.  For this reason, the old man, being my father — "

“He was his son.  He reasons well,” thought the marionette, but he did not move an eyelash, pretending to be all attention.

“For this reason, the old man, my father, sent me to tend his flocks.  One night I arrived at the brink of the river to water the flock.  There I discovered that a sheep was missing.  I was heartbroken over this, and, not wishing to return home without my little sheep, I searched everywhere, but in vain.  The sheep could not be found.  I sat down and began to weep.  Behind me was a thick cane field.  Upon a rock within the field was that man, with a sheep between his knees.  I rushed to the spot and shouted out to him, ‘Why have you stolen my sheep?’ He appeared not to hear me.  ‘Why have you stolen my sheep?’ It was like talking to a stone.  Blinded by anger, I drew nearer.  When he saw me approach he arose and ran away.  I hastened to my sheep and raised it from the ground, and then I saw — it horrifies me to tell it — that what I held in my hand was only the sheep’s coat.  The robber had eaten the rest.  My sheep!  My poor little sheep!  I shall never see it again!”