Pinocchio, having started on the road of story-telling, did not feel like turning back.
“Just see how careless that maid was,” he began again. “Last summer I gave her this beautiful lace fan, and now see where I find it! Good care she takes of my gifts!”
Globicephalous continued his somersaults.
“Look again! These are surely the plants that were stolen from my conservatories last winter,—”
Globicephalous had had too much. He interrupted Pinocchio with: “And this, if it weren’t so small, might be used to whip boys who sell tinsel for gold.”
Globicephalous was holding up a small object, which really looked like a whip.
“What do you mean?” haughtily asked Pinocchio. “Do you dare to doubt my word?”
“I don’t doubt it. I know there is not a word of truth in anything you have said.”
“How do you know? Isn’t it possible for me to have a palace and servants?”
“You might have, but you haven’t.”