After the Blue Fairy left, Jiminy Cricket couldn't sleep, but he didn't want too. How could he, after all that had happened? Staring down at Rosa, he watched her sleeping peacefully, unable to get over seeing her soft warm flesh rising and falling as she breathed. He felt a rush of pleasure as he waited for first light and her awakening, unable to bare waiting for her to discover that she was finally real.

To pass the time, he let his eyes wander around the workshop, thinking about all the changes that these walls would bear witness too again. As his eyes roved about, they came to rest on Geppetto, sleeping in a heap against his worktable. He thought about how the old man had wished for a son and received Pinocchio, then Pinocchio had wished for a brother and received a sister. He marveled at how all their adventures had begun because one man had dared to dream for something that seemed impossible.

Moving on, his gave came to rest on Pinocchio—his first charge. He stared fondly at the boy, remembering all their adventures and how much the boy had changed. He was definitely not the same boy that Jiminy had taught to whistle on the very first night and still more not the same boy who had ripped off the heads of Emilia's old dolls two nights ago. To Jiminy, Pinocchio seemed to have matured tenfold since that misdeed. He wiped away nostalgic tears.

The next morning, Pinocchio awoke, stretching his hands high in the air, this time mindful of his sleeping sister. He was so glad to be home and have his family all together again.

This day was going to be awesome, he thought! This day, this day— something was missing—this day was special somehow…he was missing something. He thought hard, resting his fist under his chin, like Rodin's sculpture; then it dawned on him. Today was Emilia's birthday!

Excitedly, he turned to wake Rosa, shaking her arm lightly. "Wake up, Rosa!" he whispered excitedly, not sure if he'd get in trouble for waking her, but unable to let her sleep. "Wake up!" he whispered again.

Then it dawned on him—she was different somehow. He stared hard, trying to figure it out, then it hit him—her arms weren't hard and wooden, but soft, warm flesh! All other thoughts melted from his brain as he stared at her in wonderment.

Rosa is a real girl, he thought, the Blue Fairy must have come last night!

He laughed out loud, joyously, and shook her harder, determined to wake her.

"Rosa, Rosa!" he called urgently, no longer worried about keeping his voice down.

Figaro raised his head, displeased with the noise. He gave Pinocchio an annoyed look before re-curling into a tight ball, with a paw over his nose. Cleo's head appeared from inside her underwater palace; she blew discontented bubbles Pinocchio's way. Jiminy, who had at last succumb to sleep, woke up with a start and smiled, realizing that Pinocchio had discovered Rosa's secret. Eyes gleaming, he peered over the side of his matchbox to watch the excitement unfold.

Suddenly, Pinocchio remembered his father. He continued shaking Rosa, but added Geppetto's name to his calls for reveille.

"Father, Rosa, Father, Rosa—wake up!"

Finally, Rosa stirred. Rolling to her back, she gave Pinocchio an annoyed look.

"Oh, let me sleep, Pinocchio," she grumped, "I ran all the way to the coast and back last night."

"Father, Father!" Pinocchio, seeing that Rosa was awake, turned his full attention to waking the old woodcarver.

Rosa, seeing that Pinocchio was otherwise occupied, jerked her arm out of his grasp and rolled over, trying to sleep again, but she was startled by something he said.

"Father, wake up!" her brother excitedly chanted, "Rosa's a real girl—Father, wake up!"

Rosa stared at her open palm in wonderment; her heartbeat quickened.

"Father, Father—wake up."

She barely heard Pinocchio in the background as she stared at herself, her eyes glistening with joyful tears. "I'm real," she whispered to herself.

Geppetto stirred slowly, rousing himself at the sound of his son's excited chatter.

"Alright, alright, Pinocchio," he said, trying to shake the cobwebs away.

"Rosa's a real girl, Father—Rosa's real—the Blue Fairy came last night."

"Just a minute, Pinocchio—just a minute—I'm—what?"

Geppetto's head whipped up, his eyes widening. Pinocchio threw back the quilt and Rosa slowly sat up, still staring at her hand in amazement. Geppetto's eyes widened even more. All three of them seemed frozen for a moment, then Geppetto let out a wild whooping cheer.

"We must celebrate!" he said, once his head had cleared enough for proper speech. "We must celebrate!" He tried to scramble to his feet, but in his excitement, his limps didn't work properly and he tripped over his workbench. Finally, gaining control, he managed to grab his accordion off the wall and began dancing a jig across the room. Jiminy descended to the floor by way of his umbrella, then he twirled and flipped it like a drum major.

Figaro, familiar with his master's quirky habits, pressed his paws into his ears. When that didn't keep the noise out, he gave the old man a scowl. Didn't these people know how busy he'd been last night? Why, he'd spent long hours attempting to grab the cuckoo birds whenever they appeared to sound the hour. And what had the humans been doing that was even half that important?

Suddenly, Pinocchio grabbed the kitten and tossed him into Rosa's arms. "Look Figaro—you old sourpuss!" he said, laughing, "Rosa's real!"

Figaro, who had hitherto disliked Rosa's hard stiff limbs, was startled to find that her embrace was now soft and cuddly. He arched his back as her hand passed over, purring extravagantly. Then, quite suddenly, he found himself dropped in heap on the soft quilt, as Pinocchio pulled Rosa off the bed and began twilling her around the room, joining their father's steps. Figaro shook his paws and scowled before hopping down to join the fun.

"Cleo, Cleo," Pinocchio swirled the water in her bowl, disturbing her. She rose out of the bubbles to see what he wanted. "Rosa's real," he told her, stoking her slimy scales with a gentle finger.

The little goldfish swan delightedly around her bowl until a mini whirlpool raged, then she leaped out and spun in a circle, like a dolphin. Rosa came over to join her brother in gazing at their tiny friend; she gave Cleo a gentle stoke too.

Suddenly, Pinocchio remembered Emilia's birthday party; they'd need to hurry if they were going to be on time.

"Father, Father," he called, maneuvering into Geppetto's dance and interrupting him.

"What is it, Pinocchio?" Geppetto asked, lowering to his knees and chuckling.

"We have to go to Emilia's birthday party," Pinocchio said earnestly.

"Emilia's birthday party?" Rosa echoed, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of a twirl, "She didn't tell me that today is her birthday."

"Oh, she wouldn't do that, " Pinocchio said, nodding his head, "She doesn't like to call attention to herself—even when she deserves it."

Geppetto laughed some more, rising to his feet. "Well, then we'd better hurry! Get your coats, you two. Oh, won't Emilia be surprised to see Rosa—a real girl!"

"I'll get my present!" Pinocchio said, remembering.

"Yes, yes, that's right, Pinocchio," Geppetto said, looking grave for a nanosecond before his joy returned.

"But, I don't have a present," Rosa realized, looking horrified. How could she not have a present for her best friend on her birthday?

"But, you didn't know that today is her birthday," Jiminy reminded her, running to her side.

"Hurry, my children—hurry!" Geppetto admonished, making shooing motions with his hands, "We can't be late!"

Pinocchio and Rosa scrambled to get their coats and Geppetto smiled when Pinocchio helped Rosa into hers before donning his own.

~*0*~

Emilia worked on making the breads and pastries that her family would sell that day. She tried to keep her hands steady, they still trembled—this was the first time that her mother had allowed her to bake alone and though she was tired from her adventures, she was determined to do her best.

Of course, she knew why she was baking alone—her mother was working on her birthday cake, but Emilia knew that her mother would never have allowed her to work alone if she wasn't ready. After all, Cella had made birthday cakes for Emilia and her brothers every year and handled all the baking for the bakery. The newly-minted eleven-year old understood what a vote of confidence her mother was giving her today.

Hearing running footsteps coming down the cobblestones, Emilia looked up, her heart fluttering with excitement—her first customers!

"Slow down, Rosa!" she heard Pinocchio call, and her face split into a smile. Not customers, but friends were coming!

She heard Pinocchio again, panting from running, "Slow down, Rosa—it won't be a surprise if you just burst through the door! You have to let to let Father and I go in first and set it up."

"Oh, alright," she heard Rosa grump, "But, hurry—I can't wait!"

"Gee, I thought you were supposed to learn patience."

"Pinoke! Stop teasing or I'll—"

"You'll what?" Emilia heard Pinocchio laugh.

"That's enough, my children!" Geppetto squelched their playful argument. "Emilia is waiting."

"Yes, Emilia and me!"

"Aw, Father, you're no fun."

"Pinocchio…"

"Oh, alright…"

Emilia smothered her laughter as the doorknob turned. Pinocchio came in alone, then shut it behind him.

"Hi, Emilia," he said, giving her a wide smile.

She stared back, amused. "Hi, Pinoke."

"Father and I have a surprise for you."

"Well, it is my birthday," she replied, wondering why he'd left Rosa's name out.

He waited until she prompted him. "Well?"

"Oh, it's just…" he fumbled with the doorknob, trying to turn it behind his back, "It's just…just…"

"Pinoke!" Emilia laughed, "Turn around so you can see what you're doing!"

Suddenly, the door flew open and Pinocchio fell backwards through the opening. "Whoa—" he said, stumbling, "What—Rosa, I said not yet!"

"No you didn't!" Rosa shot back, "And I got tired of waiting."

"That's not fair!"

"Oh, never mind now," Geppetto broke in before an argument got going, "Rosa is inside now anyway."

"Look, Emilia," Rosa said, stepping over her brother's legs, "Look at me—do you see anything different?" She held out her hands and slowly turned a circle.

"Well, no—" Emilia began, then gasped, nearly dropping the dish of pastries. "Oh, Rosa!"" she exclaimed, excitedly, "You're real!" She hurried over and, picking Rosa up, swung her around in a delighted circle. "You did it! You did it!" she added, laughing out loud, "What a wonderful surprise!"

An hour later the plates had been cleared and the table cleaned; it was time for Emilia to open her gifts. Her Father and Mother had bought a small wooden music box and they smiled proudly as she took delight in hearing the music of the many Italian masters.

"Thank you, so much!" she exclaimed, beaming, "I love them all!"

Her brothers had all pitched in and gotten her a new set of sewing, knitting, and crocheting needles and bobbins of thread in every color.

"Oh, wow!" she exclaimed, staring at the assortment of needles and thread, "You guys are the best. Thank you so much!"

Then, Geppetto took his turn. Unused to older girls, he turned scarlet as Emilia unwrapped his package. Cella laughed and patted his arm. Emilia lifted the lid to reveal delicately carved and painted wooden combs to pull her long hair up with.

"Oh, there're beautiful, Mr. Geppetto!" she exclaimed, nearly breathless. Then much to the woodcarver's embarrassment and everyone else's amusement, Emilia got up, hurried around the table, and kissed his cheek.

"Ah, well," he mumbled, bashfully, "I'm glad you like them."

There was an awkward pause, then Geppetto zeroed in on Pinocchio, relieved that the attention could be passed on to someone else.

Pinocchio pushed a brightly wrapped box across the table, and Emilia torn into the wrapping and lifted the lid, revealing her old dolls—all restored.

Rosa gasped, her face reddening.

"Oh!" Emilia said, surprised, "I-I—"

She wasn't sure what to say. She'd given these dolls to Rosa—didn't her friend want them?

"I must make a confession," Pinocchio interrupted, seeing her confusion.

"You, see," he continued, talking to everyone, "A couple of nights ago, when the idea of having a sister still wasn't sitting very well with me—I pulled off all your dolls' heads." His face reddened as he continued. "I'm sorry I did that and I'm showing them to you because I want you to know what happened and why and to show you how I fixed it. Father helped me yesterday—before all our fun started."

"I just wanted you to know," he continued, "that I've learned to value the work of another and more important, I've learned that I love my sister."

Later on, in the early evening, Emilia and Rosa met at the fountain to share some of the birthday cake with Enrico. Pinocchio was finishing up some chores and would be along soon, but for now, Rosa relished the time she had alone with her best friend.

You know," she began, settling on the pristine white marble, and soothing her skirt, "I'm awfully glad that Pinocchio told what happened to your dolls—I was so embarrassed when I saw them all torn apart and I was sure that you'd be mad at me for letting your dolls get ruined—that's why I ignored you yesterday morning and went off with those girls that are so mean."

"Oh, I'd wondered about that!" Emilia exclaimed, her eyes growing big, "Oh, Rosa, you shouldn't have worried, I wouldn't have been mad!" Then she laughed, "Truth be told, Geppetto has repaired those dolls so many times that I've lost count. I really didn't think dolls could be repaired as many times as he's been able to repair them. Your Father is a genius with toys, you know."

"He's repaired them before?" Rosa asked, surprised.

"Oh my, yes—actually, my brothers used to do the same thing that Pinocchio did."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes—it used to make me so mad, but they eventually stopped and I got over it. There are too many things in the world to be mad about to waste anger on a silly thing like a brother's mischief."

"Yes, like what the Coachman and Prince Niccolò did."

"Exactly!"

"Say, speaking of that," Rosa asked, giving Emilia a quizzical look, "Do you know what happened to the rest of the boys that were still donkeys?"

"No," Emilia replied, looking sad, "I guess we'll never know, will we? Hopefully they can get themselves straightened out though."

"Rosa!" Enrico's voice suddenly interrupted.

The girls looked up and saw both boys coming toward them at a dead run.

"Pinoke told me! Congratulations!"

He folded her into a tight embrace and kissed her on the cheek, "I knew you could do it!"

Then he turned to Emilia and repeated the tight embrace and kiss.

"Happy Birthday, my dear friend," he said happily.

"Group hug!" Pinocchio yelled, pulling and pushing everyone together.

"I say we make a pact with each other," Enrico said, from the middle of the bundle of bodies.

"What's that?" Rosa asked, laughing.

"That the four of us stay best friends forever!"

"Agreed!" everyone shouted with one voice.

Author's notes: Thanks to all my reader/reviewers! You guys are lovely and I'm glad you enjoyed this story.

The cheer Geppetto gave when he discovered Rosa was real was added in honor of a college basketball game from a couple weeks ago. I was listening to the radio call of the game and my team was playing on their home court. We won by one point after our opponent (and great rival) had its last shot sail about an inch too long. Anyway, the home court was completely sold out and the game was so back and forth and hard fought that after the buzzer sounded, I heard a fan let loose with this awesome banshee, Tarzan, chest-pounding type scream. It just cracked me up. I had to use it.

Auguste Rodin created the sculpture called, "The Thinker", between 1880-1902. That's a bit later than I was considering this story to be set in and Rodin was a French sculptor, but I thought it was a good description of Pinocchio's position, so I used it. Also, Rodin based his sculpture on Dante's Divine Comedy.

The doll repair thing came because I remember how many times my own grandfather repaired a toy that my sister or I accidently broke. He loved carving things with wood too.

The combs for Emilia's hair came by way of the story, "Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry. I get to see a play rendition of it tomorrow, so I had it on my mind.

The last bit about the donkeys came because I was originally planning something about Lampwick's fate, but when all was said and done, I couldn't fit it in. Also, I wasn't sure what "it" would be, so I dropped it.