"Dear papa, I cannot," answered the puppet, crying and rolling about on
the ground.

"Why can't you?"

"Because my feet have been eaten."

"And who has eaten your feet?"

"The cat," said Pinocchio, seeing the cat, who was amusing herself by
making some shavings dance with her forepaws.

"Open the door, I tell you!" repeated Geppetto. "If you don't, when I
get into the house you shall have the cat from me!"

"I cannot stand up, believe me. Oh, poor me! poor me! I shall have to
walk on my knees for the rest of my life!"

Geppetto, believing that all this lamentation was only another of the
puppet's tricks, thought of a means of putting an end to it, and,
climbing up the wall, he got in at the window.

He was very angry and at first he did nothing but scold; but when he saw
his Pinocchio lying on the ground and really without feet he was quite
overcome. He took him in his arms and began to kiss and caress him, and
to say a thousand endearing things to him, and as the big tears ran down
his cheeks he said, sobbing:

"My little Pinocchio! how did you manage to burn your feet?"