CHANTECLER [_Quicker still._] Oh, no, not ugly! [_Coming nearer to her._] Will you take a turn in the yard?--Accept my wing! THE PHEASANT-HEN You shall show me the sights. CHANTECLER [_Stopping before the_ CHICKENS’ _drinking-trough._]This, of course, is hideous. It is a model drinking-trough on the siphon principle, made of galvanised iron. But everything excepting that is charming, noble, time and weather worn, from the hen-house roof to the stable door-- THE BLACKBIRD [_Returning._] The Guinea-hen is having a fit! THE PHEASANT-HEN [_To_ CHANTECLER, _looking about her._] And so you live here untroubled, and have nothing to fear? CHANTECLER Nothing whatever. Because the owner is a vegetarian An amazing man, a lover of animals. He calls them by names borrowed from the poets. The donkey there is Midas; the heifer, Io. THE BLACKBIRD The showman’s on the job! THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Indicating the_ BLACKBIRD.] And that? CHANTECLER Our humorist. THE PHEASANT-HEN What does he do? CHANTECLER Oh, he keeps busy! THE PHEASANT-HEN Doing what? CHANTECLER Trying never to appear a fool, and that’s hard work. THE PHEASANT-HEN Possibly--but most unattractive! [_They move towards the back._] THE BLACKBIRD [_With a glance at the_ PHEASANT-HEN’S _scarlet breast._] Size up the highfalutin’ dame!--Get on to the waistcoat will you? CHANTECLER [_Continuing the round._] The hay-cock. The old wall. The wall, when I sing, is alive with lizards, the hay-cock bends to listen. I sing on the spot where you see the earth scratched up, and when I have sung, I drink in the bowl over there. PHEASANT-HEN Your song then is a matter of importance? CHANTECLER [_Seriously._] The greatest. THE PHEASANT-HEN Why? CHANTECLER That is my secret. THE PHEASANT-HEN If I should ask you to tell me? CHANTECLER [_Turning the conversation, and showing a pile of brushwood tied in bundles._] My friends, the fagots. THE PHEASANT-HEN Stolen from my forest!--So what they say is true?--you have a secret? CHANTECLER [_Dryly._] Yes, Madam. THE PHEASANT-HEN I suppose it would be useless to insist-- CHANTECLER [_Climbing on the wall at the back._] And from here you can see the remainder of the estate, to the edge of the kitchen-garden, where they ply at evening a serpent ending like a sprinkling can. THE PHEASANT-HEN What?--This is all? CHANTECLER This is all. THE PHEASANT-HEN And do you imagine the world ends at your vegetable-patch? CHANTECLER No. THE PHEASANT-HEN Do you never, as you watch, far overhead, the wedge of the south-flying birds, dream of vaster horizons? CHANTECLER No. PHEASANT-HEN But all these things about you are dreary and poor and flat! CHANTECLER And I can never become used to the richness and wonder of these things! THE PHEASANT-HEN It is always the same, you must agree! CHANTECLER Nothing is ever the same,--nothing,--ever,--under the sun! And that because of the sun!--For _She_ changes everything! THE PHEASANT-HEN She--Who?