budge it an inch. “We must get a lever,” said the Money-Pig. And then it was that Poor Cecco had his really bad inspiration. It all came out of trying to be too helpful.
“If I put my tail under it,” he said, “we can use that for a lever and tilt it up.”
“Hey Presto,” cried Harlequin, striking an attitude.
Poor Cecco’s tail was of wood, like all the rest of him, but it was a fine strong tail, and in those days quite long. It was an easy job to poke the tip of it under the stone. Really it looked as if it would make a wonderful lever, and Poor Cecco himself was quite excited. “Now, all take hold of it together,” he cried, “and when I say ‘ready’ you push as hard as you can!”
And he took a long breath and planted all his four feet by firmly and said “Ready!”
What really did happen? No one knew. But at the moment they all crowded together, holding on to his tail, and Poor Cecco took his long breath, and every one pushed, instead of the stone rolling over as they expected there was a dreadful crack, and Poor Cecco’s lovely wooden tail snapped right in half!
That was a terrible moment! There was half of Poor Cecco’s tail broken off under the stone, and what was worse, they couldn’t pull it out again. Not that it would have been much use to him if they had. Tubby gave a piercing shriek, Harlequin turned very pale and tottered as he stood, the dolls hid their faces, and as for Bulka,
