CHANTECLER [_Low, nervously, to the_ BLACKBIRD.] Is my prospective slayer going to keep me waiting much longer?

EVERYONE [_Disgusted._] The Rose? Oh!

THE GUINEA-HEN If you must mention flowers, let them be rather less--

THE PEAc.o.c.k Elementary. [_With the most disdainful impertinence._] So you are still at the declension of _Rosa?_

CHANTECLER I am, you--Peac.o.c.k! You, I suppose, may be forgiven for speaking slightingly of the Rose, being a rival candidate for the beauty prize.

[_Looking around him._] But I summon these c.o.c.ks, from Dorking to Bantam, to defend with me--

A c.o.c.k [_Nonchalantly._] Pray whom?

CHANTECLER The Rose, _Rosam;_ to declare on the spot and forthwith--

THE BLACKBIRD [_Ironically._] You set yourself up as the champion--

CHANTECLER _Rosarum,_ of roses, I do!--To declare that worship is due--

A c.o.c.k To whom, pray?

CHANTECLER To roses, _rosis!_--in whose hearts sleep rain-drops like essences in fragrant vials, to declare that they are, and ever will be--

A VOICE [_Cold and cutting._] Painted jades, things of naught! [_All the fancy_ c.o.c.kS _draw aside, revealing the_ WHITE PILE GAME c.o.c.k, _who appears, tall and lean and sinister at the further end of their double row._]

CHANTECLER At last!

THE BLACKBIRD It's time to climb up on the chairs!

CHANTECLER [_To the_ WHITE PILE.] Sir--

THE PHEASANT-HEN You are never going to challenge that giant?

CHANTECLER I am! To appear tall it is sufficient to talk on stilts! [_To the_ GAME c.o.c.k, _slowly crossing the stage toward him._] Know that such a remark is not to be endured, and permit me to tell you--[_Finding a_ CHICK _between himself and the_ GAME c.o.c.k, _he gently puts him aside, saying_]

Run to your mother, tot! [_To the_ WHITE PILE, _looking insolently at his docked comb_]--that you look like a Fool who has mislaid his c.o.xcomb!

THE WHITE PILE [_Astonished._] Fool? c.o.xcomb? What? What? What?

CHANTECLER [_Beak to beak with the_ GAME c.o.c.k.] What? What? What? [_A pause. They arch themselves, with bristling neck-hackle._]

THE WHITE PILE [_Emphatically._] In America, during my grand tour, I killed three Claybornes in a day. I have killed two Sherwoods, three Smoks, and one Sumatra. I have killed--let me advise anyone fighting me to take something beforehand to keep down his pulse!--three Red-game at Cambridge and ten Braekels at Bruges!

CHANTECLER [_Very simply._] I, my dear sir, have never killed anything. But as I have at different times succored, defended, protected, this one and that, I might perhaps be called, in my own fashion, brave. You need not take these mighty airs with me. I came here knowing that you would come.

That rose was dangled to afford you the opportunity for brutal stupidity. You did not fail to nibble at its petals. Your name?

THE GAME c.o.c.k White Pile. And yours?

CHANTECLER Chantecler.

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Running desperately to the_ DOG.] Patou!

CHANTECLER [_To_ PATOU, _who is growling between his teeth._] You, keep out of this!

PATOU So I will, but it's rrrrrrrough!

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_To_ CHANTECLER.] A c.o.c.k does not risk his life for a Rose!

CHANTECLER A slur upon a flower is a slur upon the Sun!

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Running to the_ BLACKBIRD.] Do something! This must be patched up--You know you had promised me!

THE BLACKBIRD Everything can be patched up, my dear, except the quarrels of a fellow's friends!

THE GUINEA-HEN [_Giving loud cries of despair._] Horrible! Oh, horrible A five-o'clock tea at which guests kill each other! How dreadful--[_To her son._] that the Tortoise should not have got here yet!

A VOICE [_Crying._] Chantecler, ten against one!

THE GUINEA-HEN [_Seating her company, a.s.sisting the_ HENS _to climb upon flower-pots, cold-frames, pumpkins._] Quick! quick!

THE BLACKBIRD Our charming hostess is in great feather, doing the honours of an affair of honour.

PATOU [_To_ CHANTECLER.] Go in and thrash him. This crowd is longing for the sight of your blood.

CHANTECLER [_Sadly._] I was never anything but kind!

PATOU [_Showing the ring which has formed, the faces lighted with hateful eagerness._] Look at them! [_All necks are craned, all eyes shine; it is hideous._ CHANTECLER _looks, understands, and bows his head._]

THE PHEASANT-HEN [_With a cry of rage._] It's a disgrace! A disgrace to the name of fowl!

CHANTECLER [_Raising his head again._] So be it. But they shall at least learn to-day who I was, and my secret--

PATOU No, don't tell them, if it's what my old dreamer's heart has apprehended!

CHANTECLER [_Addressing the mult.i.tude, in a loud voice, solemnly, like one confessing his faith._] Know, all of you, that it is I--[_Deep silence falls. To the_ WHITE PILE, _who has given a sign of impatience._] Your pardon, excellent duellist, but I have a mind, before getting myself killed, to do something brave--

THE WHITE PILE [_Surprised._] Ah?

CHANTECLER Yes,--get myself laughed at!

THE PHEASANT-HEN No, dearest, no! Don't do it!

CHANTECLER I wish to perish amid salvos of laughter! [_To the crowd._] Riot, spirit of Mockery! Disciples of the Blackbird, prepare! [_In a still louder voice, hammering home every word._] It is I, who, by my song, bring back the light of day! [_Amazement, then vast laughter shakes the mult.i.tude._] Is the merriment well under way? On guard!

THE GOLDEN PADUA c.o.c.k [_Nodding his plume._] Gentlemen, engage!

VOICES [_Amid storms of laughter._] Funny! Side-splitting! Was anything ever so droll? I shall die laughing!

THE BLACKBIRD The old Gallic love of a joke is not dead!

A CHICKEN He sings light into the sky!