“And where did you lose them?”
“In the wood near by.”
At this second lie, his nose grew a few more inches.
“If you lost them in the near-by wood,” said the Fairy, “we’ll look for them and find them, for everything that is lost there is always found.”
“Ah, now I remember,” replied the Marionette, becoming more and more confused. “I did not lose the gold pieces, but I swallowed them when I drank the medicine.”
At this third lie, his nose became longer than ever, so long that he could not even turn around. If he turned to the right, he knocked it against the bed or into the windowpanes; if he turned to the left, he struck the walls or the door; if he raised it a bit, he almost put the Fairy’s eyes out.
The Fairy sat looking at him and laughing.
“Why do you laugh?” the Marionette asked her, worried now at the sight of his growing nose.
“I am laughing at your lies.”
“How do you know I am lying?”