At the end of six weeks one would have certainly said that Punchinello was sixteen years old, so quickly did he grow, and so extraordinary was his intelligence. His father, seeing how advanced he was, resolved to make a street porter of him.
"Oh, dear me, no!" said Punchinello, with all due respect. "I have quite another idea in my head."
"Well, what is it?" said his father.
"I want to go to Court."
"What next?" cried the good man, laughing.
"The reason is," replied Punchinello, "that being deformed, and having a hump in front and a hump behind, I had better learn to read and write. I will be a scholar. You are too poor to attend to my education, and that is why the King ought to look after it. I am sure to succeed in making him do so, but for that I must have a donkey."
"A donkey!" cried father and mother; "but where are we to look for a donkey? Don't you know, my dear Punchinello, it is no easy matter to pick up a donkey?"
"Oh! never mind that. Sell your cottage. I will undertake to provide you with a much bigger one."
After arguing for an hour, Pulci was persuaded by Punchinello. He sold his house and bought the donkey.