filled the manger with straw; but Pinocchio,
having tried a mouthful, spat it out again.
Then his master, grumbling, filled the
manger with hay; but neither did the hay
please him.
“Ah!” exclaimed his master in a passion.
“Does not hay please you either? Leave it
to me, my fine donkey; if you are so full of
caprices I will find a way to cure you! . . .”
And by way of correcting him he struck his
legs with his whip.
Pinocchio began to cry and to bray with
pain, and he said, braying:
‘« J-a, j-a, I cannot digest straw!...
“Then eat hay!” said his master, who
understood perfectly the asinine dialect.
‘“J-a, j-a, hay gives me a pain in my
stomach.”
“Do you mean to pretend that a little don¬
key like you must be kept on breasts of chickens,
and capons in jelly?” asked his master, getting
more and more angry, and whipping him again.
At this second whipping Pinocchio pru¬
dently held his tongue and said nothing more.
The stable was then shut and Pinocchio
was left alone. He had not eaten for many
hours, and he began to yawn from hunger.
And when he yawned he opened a mouth that
seemed as wide as an oven.