It was drawn by one hundred pairs of white mice, and the Poodle sat on the coachman's seat and snapped his whip gayly in the air, as if he were a real coachman in a hurry to get to his destination.
In a quarter of an hour the coach was back.

The Fairy, who was waiting at the door of the house, lifted the poor little Marionette in her arms, took him to a dainty room with mother-of-pearl walls, put him to bed, and sent immediately for the most famous doctors of the neighborhood to come to her.
One after another the doctors came, a Crow, and Owl, and a Talking Cricket.
"I should like to know, signori," said the Fairy, turning to the three doctors gathered about Pinocchio's bed, "I should like to know if this poor Marionette is dead or alive." At this invitation, the Crow stepped out and felt Pinocchio's pulse, his nose, his little toe.

Then he solemnly pronounced the following words: "To my mind this Marionette is dead and gone; but if, by any evil chance, he were not, then that would be a sure sign that he is still alive!" "I am sorry," said the Owl, "to have to contradict the Crow, my famous friend and colleague.

To my mind this Marionette is alive; but if, by any evil chance, he were not, then that would be a sure sign that he is wholly dead!" "And do you hold any opinion ?" the Fairy asked the Talking Cricket.
"I say that a wise doctor, when he does not know what he is talking about, should know enough to keep his mouth shut.

However, that Marionette is not a stranger to me.