THE BLACKBIRD [_Before disappearing among the flower-pots._] Well, rather!

SCENE THIRD

THE PHEASANT-HEN, CHANTECLER.

CHANTECLER [_Who has reached the_ PHEASANT-HEN'S _side._] Out so early?

THE PHEASANT-HEN To see the daybreak.

CHANTECLER [_With repressed emotion._] Ah--?

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Teasingly._] What troubles you?

CHANTECLER I have had a wretched night.

THE PHEASANT-HEN So sorry! [_A pause._]

CHANTECLER Are you going to the Guinea-hen's?

THE PHEASANT-HEN I stayed over solely for that purpose.

CHANTECLER Ah, yes, I know. [_A pause._] I dislike her extremely.

THE PHEASANT-HEN Come to her party.

CHANTECLER No.

THE PHEASANT-HEN As you please. Then we may as well say good-bye.

CHANTECLER No.

THE PHEASANT-HEN Come to the Guinea-hen's. We shall have a chance to see something of each other there.

CHANTECLER No.

THE PHEASANT-HEN You are determined not to come?

CHANTECLER I am coming--but I hate it.

THE PHEASANT-HEN Why?

CHANTECLER It is weak.

THE PHEASANT-HEN No, no! That is no great sign of weakness!

CHANTECLER Ah--?

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Softly, coming closer to him._] What would be showing a sweet, delightful, and fully masculine weakness--

CHANTECLER [_In alarm at her approach._] What?

THE PHEASANT-HEN Would be to tell me your secret. Oh, just a wee bit!

CHANTECLER [_With a start._] The secret of my song?

THE PHEASANT-HEN Yes.

CHANTECLER Golden Hen, my secret--

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Coaxingly._] Often from the edge of the woods I hear you in the first golden glimmer of day--

CHANTECLER [_Flattered._] My song has reached your shapely little ear?

THE PHEASANT-HEN It has!

CHANTECLER [_Abruptly, moving away from her._] My secret--Never!

THE PHEASANT-HEN You are not very gallant!

CHANTECLER No--I am full of conflict and misery.

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Languidly reciting._] The c.o.c.k and the Pheasant-hen a Fable--

CHANTECLER [_Half aloud._] A c.o.c.k loved a Pheasant-hen--

THE PHEASANT-HEN And would not tell her anything--

CHANTECLER Moral--

THE PHEASANT-HEN It was horrid of him!

CHANTECLER [_Pressing close to her._] Moral: Your dress has the fascinating rustle of silk!

THE PHEASANT-HEN Moral: I dislike familiarity! [_Withdrawing from him._] Go home to your Hen of the plebeian petticoat!

CHANTECLER [_Stamping._] I shall be angry!

THE PHEASANT-HEN No, no, don't be angry--Say "Coa--" [_They stand bill to bill._]

CHANTECLER [_Angrily._] Coa--

THE PHEASANT-HEN No, no! Say it nicely--

CHANTECLER [_In a long, tender coo._] Coa--

THE PHEASANT-HEN Look at me without laughing. Your secret--