This said, he took the path at so swift a gait that he seemed to fly,
and at every small sound he heard, he turned in fear to see whether the
Terrible Shark, five stories high and with a train in his mouth, was
following him.

After walking a half hour, he came to a small country called the Land
of the Busy Bees. The streets were filled with people running to and fro
about their tasks. Everyone worked, everyone had something to do. Even
if one were to search with a lantern, not one idle man or one tramp
could have been found.

"I understand," said Pinocchio at once wearily, "this is no place for
me! I was not born for work."

But in the meantime, he began to feel hungry, for it was twenty-four
hours since he had eaten.

What was to be done?

There were only two means left to him in order to get a bite to eat. He
had either to work or to beg.

He was ashamed to beg, because his father had always preached to him
that begging should be done only by the sick or the old. He had said
that the real poor in this world, deserving of our pity and help, were
only those who, either through age or sickness, had lost the means of
earning their bread with their own hands. All others should work, and if
they didn't, and went hungry, so much the worse for them.

Just then a man passed by, worn out and wet with perspiration, pulling,