However, not one of them was very hungry.
The poor Cat felt very weak, and he was able to eat only thirty-five
mullets with tomato sauce and four portions of tripe with cheese.
Moreover, as he was so in need of strength, he had to have four more
helpings of butter and cheese.
The Fox, after a great deal of coaxing, tried his best to eat a little.
The doctor had put him on a diet, and he had to be satisfied with a
small hare dressed with a dozen young and tender spring chickens. After
the hare, he ordered some partridges, a few pheasants, a couple of
rabbits, and a dozen frogs and lizards. That was all. He felt ill, he
said, and could not eat another bite.
Pinocchio ate least of all. He asked for a bite of bread and a few nuts
and then hardly touched them. The poor fellow, with his mind on the
Field of Wonders, was suffering from a gold-piece indigestion.
Supper over, the Fox said to the Innkeeper:
"Give us two good rooms, one for Mr. Pinocchio and the other for me and
my friend. Before starting out, we'll take a little nap. Remember to
call us at midnight sharp, for we must continue on our journey.
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