"He learned to say a few words when he lived for awhile in The Country of the Talking Animals."
"Poor beast!"
"Come, Come! Don't waste your time pitying a crying donkey. Jump on his back and let us be going."
Pinocchio obeyed in silence. The coach moved on, and as the sun came up they arrived in the Country of Nothing-But-Play. It was a country unlike any other in the world. The population was composed entirely of boys. The oldest was fourteen and the youngest scarcely eight. In the streets there was so much noise, shouting and blowing of trumpets that it was almost deafening. Everywhere groups of boys played at marbles, at shinny, at ball; some rode on velocipedes and wooden horses; some played hide and seek; others played tag, some sang, others jumped over benches; some walked on their hands with their feet in the air; others tried to kick over their heads; others were trundling hoops, or strutting about dressed as generals wearing paper helmets and commanding cardboard soldiers; some were
