"Why?"
"Because I'd feel as if I were on stilts and it would amuse me to death to take steps longer than any one else."
He was satisfied and left the hospital with such long legs that he was almost as tall as Ciampanella, who took Pinocchio's arm in his as if he were his sweetheart.
"Heh, youngster, but you have grown! And then they say that we non-combatants never do anything! I haven't done anything, but if I were the one I have in mind I would bestow on you the medal for bravery because your legs have won it. I tell you, I, who know what I am talking about."
"Even if they don't give me anything, I am satisfied all the same. All I ask is for them to leave me here and not send me home."
"Come with me and I'll appoint you first adjutant of the mess kitchen, and when I have taught you how and put the ladle in your hand we will live on the fat of the land and will make meat-balls with our leavings for the general, and when we don't know what else to do we'll write the Manual of War Cookery, which I won't risk now because I haven't a writing hand, as the saying is."
"Listen, Ciampanella, I am as grateful as if you had offered to lend me a hundred lire without interest, but just now I can't accept."
"Why?"
"Because it requires a special constitution to be a cook. I'd be all right as far as eating the best morsels was concerned, but it would be dangerous for me to stay near the stove. I am half wooden and run the risk of catching on fire. I should have to decide to take out insurance against fire. Moreover, let's consider. To-day I have other views. Fatina here has given me a letter for my friend Bersaglierino, who is at headquarters as the war correspondent of an important newspaper. We'll see what he advises me to do."
They parted good friends after a solemn feast which almost made Ciampanella roll under the table, like an ancient Roman at one of the banquets of Lucullus or Nero.