THE GREY HEN Not a word! I intend to stay behind, to see the Cuckoo. [_She hides behind the basket._] CHANTECLER You, little tufted hen, was it just my fancy that you looked sulky falling into line? THE TUFTED HEN [_Going up to him._] Cock-- CHANTECLER What is it? THE TUFTED HEN I, who am nearest to your heart-- CHANTECLER [_Quickly._] Hush! THE TUFTED HEN It annoys me not to be told-- THE WHITE HEN [_Who has drawn near on the other side._] Cock-- CHANTECLER Well? THE WHITE HEN [_Coaxingly._] I who am your favourite-- CHANTECLER [_Quickly._] Hush! THE WHITE HEN [_Caressingly._] I want to know-- THE BLACK HEN [_Who has softly drawn near._] Cock-- CHANTECLER What? THE BLACK HEN Your special and tender regard for me-- CHANTECLER [_Quickly._] Hush! THE BLACK HEN Tell me, do-- THE WHITE HEN --the secret-- THE TUFTED HEN --of your song? [_Going still closer to him, in a voice thrilled with curiosity._] I do believe that you have in your throat a little copper contrivance-- CHANTECLER That’s it, that’s what I have, very carefully concealed! THE WHITE HEN [_Same business._] Most likely, like great tenors one has heard of, you gulp raw eggs-- CHANTECLER You have guessed!--A second Ugolino! THE BLACK HEN [_Same business._] My idea is that taking snails out of their shells, you pound them to a paste-- CHANTECLER And make them into troches! Exactly! ALL THREE HENS Cock--! CHANTECLER Off with you all! Be off! [_The_ HENS _hastily start, he calls them back._] A word before you go. When your blood-bright combs--now in, now out of sight, now in again--shall flash among the sage and borage yonder, like poppies playing at hide-and-seek,--to the real poppies, I enjoin you, do no injury! Shepherdesses, counting the stitches of their knitting, trample the grass all unaware that it’s a crime to crush a flower--even with a woman! But you, my Spouses, show considerate and touching thought for the flowers whose only offence is growing wild. The field-carrot has her right to bloom in beauty. Should you spy, as he strolls across some flowery umbel, a scarlet beetle peppered with black dots,--the stroller take, but spare his strolling-ground. The flowers of one same meadow are sisters, as I hold, and should together fall beneath the scythe!--Now you may go. [_They are leaving, he again calls them back._] And remember, when chickens go to the-- A HEN --fields-- CHANTECLER --the foremost-- THE HENS ALL TOGETHER --walks ahead! CHANTECLER You may go! [_They are again starting, he peremptorily calls them back._] A word! [_In a stern voice._] Never when crossing the road stop to peck! [_The_ HENS _bow in obedience._] Now let me see you cross! A HORN [_In the distance._] Honk! Honk! Honk! CHANTECLER [_Rushing in front of the_ HENS _and spreading his wings before them._] Not yet! THE HORN [_Very near, accompanied by a terrific snorting._] Honk! Honk! Honk! CHANTECLER [_Barring the_ HENS’ _passage, while everything shakes._] Wait!