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05 - The Adventures of Pinocchio - Carlo Collodi · Classic Adventure Books Collection

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  Chapter five, Pinocchio is hungry and looks for an egg to cook himself an
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  omelet, but to his surprise, the omelet flies out the window. If
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  the cricket's death scared Pinocchio at all, it was only for a few moments.
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  For as night came on, a queer empty feeling at the pit of
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  his stomach reminded the marionette that he had eaten nothing. As yet, a
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  boy's appetite grows very fast, and in a few moments the queer empty feeling
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  had become hunger, and the hunger grew bigger and bigger, until soon he
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  was as ravenous as a bear. Poor Pinocchio ran to the fireplace where the
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  pot was boiling, and stretched out his hand to take the cover off,
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  but to his amazement, the pot was only painted. Think how he felt
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  his long nose became at least two inches longer. He ran about the room,
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  dug in all the boxes and drawers, and even looked under the bed
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  and search of a piece of bread, hard though it might be, or
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  a cookie, or perhaps a bit of fish a bone left by a dog
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  would have tasted good to him. But he found nothing, And meanwhile his
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  hunger grew and grew. The only relief poor Pinocchio had was to yawn,
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  And he certainly did yawn, such a big yawn that his mouth stretched out
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  to the tips of his ears. Soon he became dizzy and faint. He
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  wept and wailed to himself. The talking cricket was right. It was wrong
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  of me to disobey father and to run away from home. If he were
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  here now, I wouldn't be so hungry. Oh, how horrible it is
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  to be hungry. Suddenly he saw among the sweepings in the corner, something
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  round and white that looked very much like a hen's egg. In a jiffy,
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  he pounced upon it. It was an egg. The marionette's joy knew
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  no bounds. It is impossible to describe it. You must pitch here it
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  to yourself. Certain that he was dreaming, he turned the egg over and
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  over in his hands, fondled it, kissed it, and talked to it.
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  And now how shall I cook you? Shall I make you an omelet?
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  No? It is better to fry you in a pan. Or shall
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  I drink you? No? The best way is to fry you in the
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  pan. You will taste better. No, sooner said than done. He
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  placed a little pan over a footwarmer full of hot coals. In the pan
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  instead of oil or butter, he poured a little water. As soon as
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  the water started to boil, dack, he broke the egg shell. But
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  in place of the white and the yolk of the egg, a little yellow
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  chick, fluffy and gay and smiling, escape from it. Bowing politely to
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  Pinocchio, he said to him many, many thanks, indeed, mister Pinocchio,
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  for having saved me the trouble of breaking my shell. Goodbye and good
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  luck to you, and remember me to the family. With these words,
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  he spread out his wings, and, darting to the open window, he
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  flew away into space till he was out of sight. The poor marionette stood
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  as if turned to stone, with wide eyes, open mouthed, and the
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  empty halves of the egg shell in his hands. When he came to himself,
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  he began to cry and shriek at the top of his lungs, stamping
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  his feet on the ground and wailing. All the while. The talking cricket
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  was right. If I had not run away from home, and if father
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  was here now, I should not be dying of hunger. Oh, how
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  horrible it is to be hungry. And as his stomach kept grumbling more than
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  ever, and he had nothing to quiet it with, he thought of going
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  out for a walk to the nearby village, in the hope of finding some
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  charitable person who might give him a bit of bread. End of Chapter five.