“Come!” replied the good old man, “between us there should not be so much talk. I cannot give him to you unless you give me twenty yards of English calico, thirty yards of iron wire, and four strings of glass beads.”
“It is too much. It is too much,” replied one.
“They are bargaining for the donkey,” said Pinocchio, and he felt sorry for the poor beast.
“I am sorry for you,” he went on, addressing the donkey, “because you have made me quite comfortable. Now I must give you up and walk.”
“It is too much. It is too much,” the men were saying.
“Yes, yes, all you say is very true,” spoke one in a high voice, “but, after all, he is made of wood.”
“Of wood? Who is made of wood? The donkey?” thought Pinocchio, looking at the animal, which stood still, its ears erect as if it also were listening.
“Here!” put in one of the men, “the bargain is made if you will give him up for an elephant’s tooth; if not, let us talk no more of it.”
The old man was silent. He looked at the marionette, and then with a sigh which came from his heart he said: “You drive a hard bargain! Add at least the horn of a rhinoceros and let us be done with it.”
“Put in the horn!” replied the man, and they shook hands. “You have done well, my friends,” the old man said. “That fellow there,”—and this time pointed directly at Pinocchio,—“that fellow there has some great ideas in his head. He knows a thing or two! He says he knows the exact spot where one may find gold and diamonds.”