“Nothing more simple, your majesty,” replied Marameho. “I know of a plant, the fruit of which will serve our purpose.”
“When can we get this wonderful dye?”
“To-day, if your majesty will permit me to absent myself for a short time,” replied Marameho with great respect.
“Go, go at once,” ordered the marionette, greatly delighted. “But wait; there is something more. We are alone and may drop our titles. Your majesty, your highness, weary me to death. Call me plain Pinocchio, and I will call you my dear Marameho.”
The poor boy was overcome with all this kindness, and planting a kiss upon the point of his emperor’s nose, he vanished through the trees.
The next day a proclamation was made throughout the empire. His royal and imperial highness had become as black as the blackest of his subjects.
The ministers were joyous, and they celebrated this happy event with a great feast. That day they did nothing but eat and dance.
As a rule the emperor, of course, could not take part in such amusements. It was his business to sit upon the throne while the ministers and the people danced and played before him. This time, however, the ancient law was broken. Pinocchio danced like a madman the entire night, while the faithful Marameho, clothed in the emperor’s garments, sat upon the throne. No one even dreamed of the exchange.