"What kind?"
"The donkey fever.”
"I don't know anything about that disease," replied Pinocchio, who really knew only too well.
"Then I will explain it to you. In two or three hours you will be a donkey, a real donkey, like those that pulled the coach that brought you here."
"Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" wailed Pinocchio, pulling his ears wildly, so that it must have been painful to him.
"My dear," said the Dormouse, "what can you do? You surely realize that it is a written law that those boys who do not want to study, who hate schools and schoolmasters, and who spend all their time enjoying themselves, always end by becoming little donkeys."
"Is that really true?"
"Of course it is. And now it is of no use to cry. You should have thought of it sooner."
"But it was not my fault. Believe me, the blame all rests on Candlewick."
"And who is Candlewick?”
