"Come along; it's only the Punchinellos."
"The Punchinellos? What's that?"
"Were you born yesterday? Live in Naples and don't know the Punchinellos?"
Filippo stopped to laugh at so absurd an idea, for Punchinellos are as common in Italy as hand–organs in America.
Taking advantage of his laughter, Pappina pulled Filippo into the crowd.
"Filippo, I cannot see," she cried.
She could hear voices carrying on a conversation, but as for seeing, she was lost in a wilderness of legs. Dragging her unwilling brother by the arm, elbowing her way through the crowd, she took her place directly in front of the Punchinellos.
The first part of the puppet performance was just ended. Then came the most popular of all puppet plays, in which a splendid puppet fully ten inches high, with fixed, staring expression, began good–naturedly to deceive the smaller puppets.
As the first simple–minded puppet gave his wealth to the arch deceiver, Pappina cried out:
"Don't give it to him! Don't, I say! He is bad."