“I see him.”

“Very well.  Fly immediately to him.  With your strong beak, break the knot which holds him tied, take him down, and lay him softly on the grass at the foot of the oak.”

The Falcon flew away and after two minutes returned, saying, “I have done what you have commanded.”

“How did you find him?  Alive or dead?”

“At first glance, I thought he was dead.  But I found I was wrong, for as soon as I loosened the knot around his neck, he gave a long sigh and mumbled with a faint voice, ‘Now I feel better!’”

The Fairy clapped her hands twice.  A magnificent Poodle appeared, walking on his hind legs just like a man.  He was dressed in court livery.  A tricorn trimmed with gold lace was set at a rakish angle over a wig of white curls that dropped down to his waist.  He wore a jaunty coat of chocolate-colored velvet, with diamond buttons, and with two huge pockets which were always filled with bones, dropped there at dinner by his loving mistress.  Breeches of crimson velvet, silk stockings, and low, silver-buckled slippers completed his costume.  His tail was encased in a blue silk covering, which was to protect it from the rain.

“Come, Medoro,” said the Fairy to him.  “Get my best coach ready and set out toward the forest.  On reaching the oak tree, you will find a poor, half-dead Marionette stretched out on the grass.  Lift him up tenderly, place him on the silken cushions of the coach, and bring him here to me.”

The Poodle, to show that he understood, wagged his silk-covered tail two or three times and set off at a quick pace.

In a few minutes, a lovely little coach, made of glass, with lining as soft as whipped cream and chocolate pudding, and stuffed with canary feathers, pulled out of the stable.  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!”