Pinocchio is hungry and looks for an egg to cook himself anomelet;but, to his surprise, the omelet flies out of the windowIf the Cricket's death scared Pinocchio at all, it was onlyfor a very few moments. For, as night came on, a queer,empty feeling at the pit of his stomach reminded theMarionette that he had eaten nothing as yet.A boy's appetite grows very fast, and in a few moments thequeer, empty feeling had become hunger, and the hunger grewbigger and bigger, until soon he was as ravenous as a bear.Poor Pinocchio ran to the fireplace where the pot wasboiling and stretched out his hand to take the cover off,but to his amazement the pot was only painted! Think how hefelt! His long nose became at least two inches longer.He ran about the room, dug in all the boxes and drawers,and even looked under the bed in search of a piece ofbread, hard though it might be, or a cookie, or perhaps abit of fish. A bone left by a dog would have tasted good tohim! But he found nothing.And meanwhile his hunger grew and grew. The only reliefpoor Pinocchio had was to yawn; and he certainly did yawn,such a big yawn that his mouth stretched out to the tips ofhis ears. Soon he became dizzy and faint. He wept andwailed to himself: "The Talking Cricket was right. It waswrong of me to disobey Father and to run away from home. Ifhe were here now, I wouldn't be so hungry! Oh, how horribleit is to be hungry!"Suddenly, he saw, among the sweepings in a corner,something round and white that looked very much like ahen's egg. In a jiffy he pounced upon it. It was an egg.The Marionette's joy knew no bounds. It is impossible todescribe it, you must picture it to yourself. Certain thathe was dreaming, he turned the egg over and over in hishands, fondled it, kissed it, and talked to it:"And now, how shall I cook you? Shall I make an omelet? No,it is better to fry you in a pan! Or shall I drink you? No,the best way is to fry you in the pan. You will tastebetter."No sooner said than done. He placed a little pan over afoot warmer full of hot coals. In the pan, instead of oilor butter, he poured a little water. As soon as the waterstarted to boil--tac!--he broke the eggshell. But in placeof the white and the yolk of the egg, a little yellowChick, fluffy and gay and smiling, escaped from it. Bowingpolitely to Pinocchio, he said to him: "Many, many thanks, indeed, Mr. Pinocchio, for having savedme the trouble of breaking my shell! Good-by and good luckto you and remember me to the family!"With these words he spread out his wings and, darting tothe open window, he flew away into space till he was out ofsight.The poor Marionette stood as if turned to stone, with wideeyes, open mouth, and the empty halves of the egg-shell inhis hands. When he came to himself, he began to cry andshriek at the top of his lungs, stamping his feet on theground and wailing all the while:"The Talking Cricket was right! If I had not run away fromhome and if Father were here now, I should not be dying ofhunger. Oh, how horrible it is to be hungry!"And as his stomach kept grumbling more than ever and he hadnothing to quiet it with, he thought of going out for awalk to the near-by village, in the hope of finding somecharitable person who might give him a bit of bread. "
