“Still these things are real, Your Honor, and are seen here every day.”
Pinocchio, who had liked the idea of being called “Illustrious” was delighted to hear himself addressed as “Your Honor.”
“So this servant thinks me a great man,” he thought proudly to himself. He strutted round as if the whole world belonged to him. While he was walking with his head in the air and his hands in his pockets, he struck a round, flat object with his foot. Picking it up, he looked it over carefully.
“Does Your Honor know what that is?” the cetacean asked him mockingly.
“Of course. It is the bellows my cook lost a few weeks ago, and this,” he continued, picking up another object, “is the crumb brush our maid lost last Sunday and looked all over the house for. I wonder how they came to be here?”
Globicephalous turned a somersault, the better to hide his laughing face.
Pinocchio, thinking that the dolphin believed all his tales, continued his proud walk.
“Globicephalous turned a Somersault, the better to hide his Laughing Face.”
Lying on top of a rock not far off was a transparent object of beautiful colors. It was closely woven like a net work, and looked like a fan.