Pinocchio was as silent and gloomy as the hood of a dirty kitchen stove. Squatting at the entrance to the tent, he kept glancing at his companions, and every now and then he would scratch his head so vigorously that he might have been currycombing a donkey. When Pinocchio scratched his head in that way ... Well, now you know that matters were serious, but I tell you they were so serious that he had the courage to interrupt the Bersaglierino in his literary studies.
"Excuse me, but will you do me a favor?"
"What do you want? Keep quiet ... leave me alone ... you make me lose my thread of thought ..."
"So you write with thread, do you? Are you aware that they don't use this any more?"
"Stop your nonsense. Leave me alone, puppet."
"Do me a favor and then ..."
"What is it? Spit it out!"
"Lend me a pencil and a piece of paper."
"You want to write, too?"
"Yes."