Chapter 5

           IftheCricket’sdeathscaredPinocchioatall,itwasonlyforaveryfewmoments.For,asnightcameon,aqueer,emptyfeelingatthepitofhisstomachremindedtheMarionettethathehadeatennothingasyet. 

           Aboy’sappetitegrowsveryfast,andinafewmomentsthequeer,emptyfeelinghadbecomehunger,andthehungergrewbiggerandbigger,untilsoonhewasasravenousasabear. 

           PoorPinocchiorantothefireplacewherethepotwasboilingandstretchedouthishandtotakethecoveroff,buttohisamazementthepotwasonlypainted! Thinkhowhefelt!Hislongnosebecameatleasttwoincheslonger. 

           Heranabouttheroom,duginalltheboxesanddrawers,andevenlookedunderthebedinsearchofapieceofbread,hardthoughitmightbe,oracookie,orperhapsabitoffish.Aboneleftbyadogwouldhavetastedgoodtohim!Buthefoundnothing. 

           Andmeanwhilehishungergrewandgrew.TheonlyreliefpoorPinocchiohadwastoyawn;andhecertainlydidyawn,suchabigyawnthathismouthstretchedouttothetipsofhisears. Soonhebecamedizzyandfaint.Heweptandwailedtohimself: "TheTalkingCricketwasright.ItwaswrongofmetodisobeyFatherandtorunawayfromhome.Ifhewereherenow,Iwouldn’tbesohungry!Oh,howhorribleitistobehungry!" 

           Suddenly,hesaw,amongthesweepingsinacorner,somethingroundandwhitethatlookedverymuchlikeahen’segg.Inajiffyhepounceduponit. Itwasanegg. 

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