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01 - The Adventures of Pinocchio - Carlo Collodi · Classic Adventure Books Library

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  Chapter one. How it happened that Mastro Cherry carpenter found a piece of wood
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  that wept and laughed like a child. Centuries ago there lived a king.
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  My little readers will say immediately, no, children, you are mistaken.
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  Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not an
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  expensive piece of wood, far from it, just a common block of firewood,
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  one of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in
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  the winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm. I do not know how
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  this really happened, yet the fact remains that one fine day this piece of
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  wood found itself in the shop of an old carpenter. His name was Mastro
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  Antonio, but everybody called him Mastro Cherry, for the tip of his nose
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  was so round and red and shiny that it looked like a ripe cherry.
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  As soon as he saw that piece of wood, Mastro Cherry was filled with
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  joy. Rubbing his hands together happily, he mumbled half to himself, this
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  has come in the nick of time. I shall use it to make the
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  leg of a table. He grasped the hatchet quickly to peel off the bark
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  and shape the wood. But as he was about to give it the first
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  blow. He stood still with arm uplifted, for he had heard a wee
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  little voice say, in a beseeching tone, please be careful, do not
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  hit me so hard. With a look of surprise shone on Mastro Cherry's face,
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  his funny face became funnier still. He turned frightened eyes about the room
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  to find out where that wee little voice had come from, And he saw
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  no one. He looked under the bench, no one. He peeped inside
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  the closet, no one. He sir among the shavings, no one.
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  He opened the door to look up and down the street, and still no
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  one. Oh, I see, he said, laughing and scratching his wig.
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  It can easily be seen that I only thought I heard the tiny voice
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  say the words, well, well to work. Once more, he struck
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  a most solemn blow upon the piece of wood. Oh oh, you hurt,
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  cried the same far away little voice. Mastro Cherry groomed dumb, his
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  eyes popped out of his head, his mouth wide open, and his tongue
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  hung down on his chin. As soon as he regained the use of his
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  senses, he said, trembling and stuttering from fright where did that voice come
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  from when there is no one around? Might it be that this piece of
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  wood has learned to weep and cry like a child? I can hardly believe
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  it. Here it is a piece of common fire, good only to burn
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  in the stove, the same as any other. Yet might someone be hidden
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  in it? If so, the worse for him. I'll fix him with
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  these words. He grabbed the log with both hands and started to knock it
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  about unmercifully. He threw it to the floor, against the walls of the
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  room, and even up to the ceiling. He listened for the tiny voice
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  to moan and cry. He waited two minutes nothing, five minutes nothing,
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  ten minutes nothing. Oh I see, he said, trying bravely to laugh
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  and ruffling up his wig with his hand. It can easily be seen.
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  I only imagined I heard the tiny voice. Well, well, to work
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  once more. The poor fellow was scared half to death, so he tried
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  to sing a gay song in order to gain courage. He set aside the
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  hatchet and picked up the plane to make the wood smooth and even. But
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  as he drew it to and fro, he heard the same tiny voice.
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  This time it giggled as it spoke. Ha ha, stop it, stop
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  it, ha ha. You tickle my stomach this time, poor mastro Cherry
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  fell as if shot. When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting
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  on the floor. His face had changed fright, had turned even the tip
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  of his nose from red to deepest purple. End of Chapter one.