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       Carlo Collodi

      The Adventures of Pinocchio

      Illustrated

      Published by

      Books

      - Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -

       [email protected]

      2019 OK Publishing

      EAN 4064066052720

       CHAPTER 1

       CHAPTER 2

       CHAPTER 3

       CHAPTER 4

       CHAPTER 5

       CHAPTER 6

       CHAPTER 7

       CHAPTER 8

       CHAPTER 9

       CHAPTER 10

       CHAPTER 11

       CHAPTER 12

       CHAPTER 13

       CHAPTER 14

       CHAPTER 15

       CHAPTER 16

       CHAPTER 17

       CHAPTER 18

       CHAPTER 19

       CHAPTER 20

       CHAPTER 21

       CHAPTER 22

       CHAPTER 23

       CHAPTER 24

       CHAPTER 25

       CHAPTER 26

       CHAPTER 27

       CHAPTER 28

       CHAPTER 29

       CHAPTER 30

       CHAPTER 31

       CHAPTER 32

       CHAPTER 33

       CHAPTER 34

       CHAPTER 35

       CHAPTER 36

      CHAPTER 1

       Table of Contents

      How it happened that Mastro Cherry, carpenter, found a piece of wood that wept and laughed like a child.

      Centuries ago there lived —

      “A king!” my little readers will say immediately.

      No, children, you are mistaken. Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood. Far from it. Just a common block of firewood, one of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm.

      I do not know how this really happened, yet the fact remains that one fine day this piece of wood found itself in the shop of an old carpenter. His real name was Mastro Antonio, but everyone called him Mastro Cherry, for the tip of his nose was so round and red and shiny that it looked like a ripe cherry.

      As soon as he saw that piece of wood, Mastro Cherry was filled with joy. Rubbing his hands together happily, he mumbled half to himself:

      “This has come in the nick of time. I shall use it to make the leg of a table.”

      He grasped the hatchet quickly to peel off the bark and shape the wood. But as he was about to give it the first blow, he stood still with arm uplifted, for he had heard a wee, little voice say in a beseeching tone: “Please be careful! Do not hit me so hard!”

      What a look of surprise shone on Mastro Cherry’s face! His funny face became still funnier.

      He turned frightened eyes about the room to find out where that wee, little voice had come from and he saw no one! He looked under the bench — no one! He peeped inside the closet — no one! He searched among the shavings — no one! He opened the door to look up and down the street — and still no one!

      “Oh, I see!” he then said, laughing and scratching his Wig. “It can easily be seen that I only thought I heard the tiny voice say the words! Well, well — to work once more.”

      He struck a most solemn blow upon the piece of wood.

      “Oh, oh! You hurt!” cried the same far-away little voice.

      Mastro Cherry grew dumb, his eyes popped out of his head, his mouth opened wide, and his tongue hung down on his chin.

      As soon as he regained

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