In the meantime he heard a whistling in his ears like some one laughing. Looking up, he saw on a tree a big Parrot who was preening his feathers.
“Why do you laugh?” asked Pinocchio in an angry voice.
“I laugh because in cleaning my feathers I tickled myself under my wings.”
The marionette did not reply. He went to the well and, carrying some water, sprinkled again the place where he had buried his money. When he did this he heard a laugh more impertinent than the first one. It sounded very loud in the solitude of the field.
“Well,” said Pinocchio, wrathfully, “tell me, if you can, ignorant Parrot, why you laugh now.”
“I laugh at those silly heads who believe everything that is told them.”
“Do you refer to me?”
“Yes, I speak of you, poor Pinocchio. You are foolish enough to think that money, if sowed properly, will grow like grain and plants. I thought so once, and in consequence I have to-day very few feathers. Now that it is too late to mend matters, I have made up my mind that in order to get together a few pennies it is necessary to work with your hands or invent something with your head.”
“I do not understand,” said the marionette, who already began to tremble with fear.
