“We have come for you,” said the largest Rabbit.
“For me? But I’m not dead yet!”
“No, not dead yet; but you will be in a few moments since you have refused to take the medicine which would have made you well.”
“Oh, Fairy, my Fairy,” the Marionette cried out, “give me that glass! Quick, please! I don’t want to die! No, no, not yet—not yet!”
And holding the glass with his two hands, he swallowed the medicine at one gulp.
“Well,” said the four Rabbits, “this time we have made the trip for nothing.”
And turning on their heels, they marched solemnly out of the room, carrying their little black coffin and muttering and grumbling between their teeth.
In a twinkling, Pinocchio felt fine. With one leap he was out of bed and into his clothes.
The Fairy, seeing him run and jump around the room gay as a bird on wing, said to him:
“My medicine was good for you, after all, wasn’t it?”