id="id00133">THE PIGEON
Of his comb!

THE WHITE HEN [Laughing, to the others.] Ha! ha! he wishes to see—

THE PIGEON [In great excitement.] That's it! Just to see—

THE WHITE HEN
There, there, cool down!

THE PIGEON
I am shaking with excitement!

THE WHITE HEN
You are shaking down the roof!

THE PIGEON
You can't think how we admire him!

THE WHITE HEN
Oh, everyone admires him!

THE PIGEON
And I promised my missis to tell her what he is like!

THE WHITE HEN [Quietly pecking.] Oh, he's a fine fellow, no doubt of that!

THE PIGEON We can hear him crowing from our dove-cote. The One he is whose song is more an ornament to the landscape than the white hamlet to the hill! The One he is whose cry pierces the blue horizon like a gold-threaded needle stitching the hill-tops to the sky! The Cock he is! When you would praise him, call him the Cock!

THE BLACKBIRD [Hopping up and down in his cage.] Tick-tock!—who sets all hearts a-beating, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!

A HEN
Our Cock!

THE BLACKBIRD [Thrusting his head between the bars of his cage.] My, thy, his, her, our, your, and their Cock!

THE TURKEY [To the PIGEON.] He will soon be coming in from his usual round in the fields.

THE PIGEON
You have the honour of his acquaintance, sir?

THE TURKEY [Importantly.] I have known him from a baby. This chick—for to me he is still a chick!—used to come to me for his bugle lesson.

THE PIGEON
Ah, indeed? You give lessons in—

THE TURKEY
Certainly. A bird who can gobble is qualified to teach crowing.

THE PIGEON
Where was he born?

THE TURKEY [Indicating an old covered basket, badly battered and broken.] In that old basket.

THE PIGEON
And is the hen who brooded him still living?

THE TURKEY [Again indicating the basket.] She is there.

THE PIGEON
Where?

THE TURKEY
In that old basket.

THE PIGEON [More and more interested.] Of what breed is she?

THE TURKEY She is just a good old-fashioned Gascon hen, born in the neighbourhood of Pau.

THE BLACKBIRD [Thrusting out his head.] She is the one Henry the Fourth wished to see cooking in every Frenchman's pot!

THE PIGEON
How proud she must be of having hatched such a Cock!

THE TURKEY Yes, proud with a lowly foster-mother's pride. Her beloved chick is coming to his inches, that is all she seems to understand or care about. And when you tell her this, her clouded reason gives a momentary gleam— [Calling towards the basket.] Hey, old lady, he is growing!

ALL THE HENS
He is growing!

[The lid of the basket is suddenly lifted, and a bristling aged hen's head appears.]

THE PIGEON [To the OLD HEN, gently and feelingly.] Does it make you happy, mother, to think of him grown to a big fine Cock?

THE OLD HEN [Nodding, sententiously.] Happy?—Wednesday's crops do credit to Tuesday! [She disappears, the lid drops.]

THE TURKEY She opens now and then, like that, and ping! shoots at us some such pearl of homely lore—

THE PIGEON [To the WHITE HEN.] White Hen!

THE TURKEY —not always wholly without point!

THE OLD HEN [Reappearing for an instant.] In the Peacock's absence, the Turkey spreads his tail!

[The TURKEY turns quickly around, the lid has already dropped.]

THE PIGEON [To the WHITE HEN.] Is it a fact that Chantecler is never hoarse, never the very least husky?

THE WHITE HEN [Keeping on with her pecking.] Perfectly true.

THE PIGEON [With growing enthusiasm.] Ah, you must be proud Cock who will be numbered among Illustrious Animals and his name remembered five, ten, fifteen years!

THE TURKEY
Very proud. Very proud. [To a CHICK.] Who are the Illustrious Animals?
Tell them off!

THE CHICK [Reciting a lesson.] Noah's Dove—Saint Rocco's Poodle—The—the Horse of Cali—

THE TURKEY
Cali—?

THE CHICK [Trying to remember.] Cali—

THE PIGEON This Cock, now—this Cock of yours—Is it true that his song attunes, inspires, encourages, makes labour light, and keeps off birds of prey?

THE WHITE HEN [Pecking.] Perfectly true.

THE CHICK [Still hunting for his word.] Cali—Cali—

THE PIGEON White Hen, is it true that by his song, defender of the warm and sacred egg, he has frequently kept the lissome weasel from—

THE BLACKBIRD [Looking out between the bars.]—messing his shirtfront with omelette?

THE WHITE HEN
Perfectly true.

THE CHICK
Cali—

THE TURKEY [Helping him.] Gu?

THE CHICK
Gu—

THE PIGEON
Is it true—?

THE CHICK [Jumping for joy at having found.] Gula!

THE PIGEON —true that, as report says, he has a secret for his amazing singing, a secret whereby his crow becomes the brilliant burst of red which makes the poppies of the field feel themselves contemptible imitations?

THE WHITE HEN [Weary of this questioning.] Perfectly true.

THE PIGEON
That secret, that great secret, is it known to anyone?

THE WHITE HEN
No.

THE PIGEON
He has not even told his Hen?

THE WHITE HEN [Correcting him.] His Hens.

THE PIGEON [Slightly shocked.] Ah, he has more than one?

THE BLACKBIRD
He crows, remember, you only coo.

THE PIGEON
Well, then, he has not even told his favourite?

THE TUFTED HEN [Promptly.] No, he has not!

THE WHITE HEN [As promptly.] No, he has not!

THE BLACK HEN [As promptly.] No, he has not!

THE BLACKBIRD [Thrusting out his head.] Hush!—An aërial drama! The Butterfly, absorbed in his head of blossom, banquets, all oblivious of—

[A great green gauze butterfly-net appears above the wall, softly coming towards the BUTTERFLY settled on one of the flowers.]

A HEN
What is that?

THE TURKEY [Solemnly.] Fate!

THE BLACKBIRD
In a thin disguise of gauze!

THE WHITE HEN
Oh, a net—at the end of a cane!

THE BLACKBIRD No harm in the cane—it's the kid at the other end of the cane! [Half aloud, watching the BUTTERFLY.] You neat little fop, sailing from rose to rose, to-night you'll be neat as a pin can make you!

ALL [Watching the cautious approach of the net beyond the wall.] Nearer—Nearer—Hush! He'll catch it!—No he won't!—Yes, he will!

SUDDENLY OUTSIDE