asleep on the wall, later A BUTTERFLY on the flowers.

THE WHITE HEN [Pecking.] Ah! Delicious!

ANOTHER HEN
What are you eating?

ALL THE HENS [Rushing to the spot.] What's she eating?

THE WHITE HEN A small green beetle, crisp and nice, tasting of the rose-leaves he had lived on.

THE BLACK HEN [Standing before the BLACKBIRD'S cage.] Really, the Blackbird whistles amazingly!

THE WHITE HEN
Any little street urchin can do as much!

THE TURKEY [Solemnly.] An urchin who had learned of a shepherd in Sicily!

THE DUCK
He never whistles his tune to the end—

THE TURKEY That's too easy, carrying it to the end! [He hums the tune the BLACKBIRD has been whistling.] "How sweet to fare afield, and cull—and cull—" You should know, Duck, that the thing in art is to leave off before the end! "And cull—and cull—" Bravo, Blackbird!

[The BLACKBIRD comes out on the little platform in front of his cage and bows.]

A CHICK [Astonished.] Can he get out?

BLACKBIRD
Applause is salt on my tail!

THE CHICK
But his cage?

THE TURKEY He can come out, and he can go in again. His cage has that sort of spring.—"And cull—and cull—" The whole point is missed if you tell them what you cull!

THE BLACK HEN [Catching sight of a BUTTERFLY alighting on the flowers above the wall at the back.] Oh, what a gorgeous butterfly!

THE WHITE HEN
Where?

THE BLACK HEN
On the honey-suckle.

THE TURKEY
That kind is called an Admiral.

THE CHICK [Looking after the BUTTERFLY.] Now he has settled on a pink.

THE WHITE HEN [To the TURKEY.] An Admiral, wherefore?

THE BLACKBIRD
Obviously because he is neither a seaman nor a soldier.

THE WHITE HEN
Our Blackbird has a pretty wit!

THE TURKEY [Nodding and swinging his red stalactite.] He has better than wit, my dear!

ANOTHER HEN [Watching the BUTTERFLY.] It's sweet—a butterfly!

THE BLACKBIRD
Easy as possible to make! You take a W and set it on top of a Y!

A HEN [Delighted.] A flourish of his bill, and there you have your caricature!

THE TURKEY He does better than execute caricatures! Hen, our Blackbird forces you to think while obliging you to laugh. He is a Teacher in wit's clothing.

A CHICK [To a HEN.] Mother, why does the Cat hate the Dog?

THE BLACKBIRD
Because he appropriates his seat at the theatre.

THE CHICK [Surprised.] They have a theatre?

THE BLACKBIRD
Where dumb-shows are given.

THE CHICK
Eh?

THE BLACKBIRD
The hearthstone from whence both alike wish to watch the play of the
Fire among the Logs.

THE TURKEY [Delighted.] How aptly he conveys that the hatred of peoples is at bottom a question of wanting the other's territory. There's a brain for you!

THE SPECKLED HEN [To the WHITE HEN, who is pecking.] Do you peck peppers?

THE WHITE HEN
Constantly.

THE SPECKLED HEN
How can you stand the sting?

THE WHITE HEN
It imparts to the feathers a delicate rosy tint.

THE SPECKLED HEN
Oh, does it!

A VOICE IN THE DISTANCE
Cuckoo!

THE WHITE HEN
Listen!

THE VOICE [From a greater distance.] Cuckoo!

THE WHITE HEN
The Cuckoo!

A GREY HEN [Comes running excitedly.] Which Cuckoo? The one who lives in the woods, or the one who lives in the clock?

THE VOICE [Still further off.] Cuckoo!

THE WHITE HEN
The one of the woods.

THE GREY HEN [With a sigh of relief.] Oh, I was so afraid of having missed the other!

THE WHITE HEN [Going near enough to her to speak in an undertone.] Do you mean to say you love him?

THE GREY HEN [Sadly.] Without ever having set eyes on him. He lives in a chalet hanging on the kitchen wall, above the farmer's great-coat and fowling-piece. The moment he sings, I rush to the spot, but I never get there in time to see anything but his little wicket closing. This evening I mean to stay right here beside the door—[She takes up her position on the threshold.]

A VOICE
White Hen!

SCENE SECOND

THE SAME, a PIGEON on the roof, later CHANTECLER.

THE WHITE HEN [Looking about with quick jerks of her head.] Who called me?

THE VOICE
A pigeon.

THE WHITE HEN [Looking for him.] Where?

THE PIGEON
On the sloping roof.

THE WHITE HEN [Lifting her head and seeing him.] Ah!

THE PIGEON Though I am the bearer of an important missive, I would not miss the opportunity—Good evening, Hen!

THE WHITE HEN
Postman, howdedo?

THE PIGEON My duty on the Postal Service of the Air obliging me this summer evening to pass your habitations, I should be most happy if—

THE WHITE HEN [Spying a crumb of some sort.] One moment, please.

ANOTHER HEN [Running eagerly towards her.] What are you eating?

ALL THE HENS [Arriving at a run.] What's she eating?

THE WHITE HEN
A simple grain of wheat.

THE GREY HEN [Taking up her conversation with the WHITE HEN.] As I was telling you, I mean to stay right on the door-step there—[Showing the door of the house.]

THE WHITE HEN [Looking at the door.] The door is shut.

THE GREY HEN
Yes, but I shall hear the hour striking, and I will catch a look at my
Cuckoo by stretching my neck,—

THE PIGEON [Calling, slightly out of patience.] White Hen!

THE WHITE HEN One moment, please! [To the GREY HEN.]—Catch a look at your Cuckoo, by stretching your neck where?—Where?

THE GREY HEN [Pointing with her beak at the small, round opening at the foot of the door.] Through the cat-hole!

THE PIGEON [Raising his voice to a shout.] Am I to be kept here cooling my feet on your rain-pipe? Hi, there, whitest of Hens!

THE WHITE HEN [Hopping towards him.] You were saying?

THE PIGEON
I was about to say—

THE WHITE HEN
What, bluest of Pigeons?

THE PIGEON That I should consider myself past expression fortunate if—But no! I am abashed at my own boldness!—if I might be so favoured as to be permitted to get a glimpse—

THE WHITE HEN
Of what?

THE PIGEON
Oh, just a glimpse, the very least glimpse of—

ALL THE HENS [Impatiently.] Of what?—What?