CHANTECLER A plain red-pepper comb, an ordinary garlic clove ear-- THE GUINEA-HEN Of course, of course, we will excuse you. You came in your business suit! CHANTECLER Nay, my best! Pardon if my best combines merely the green of all April with the gold of all October! I stand abashed. I am the Cock, just the Cock, without further addition. The Cock such as he is still found in some old-fashioned barnyard. A Cock shaped like a Cock, whose outline persists in the vane on the steeple-top in the artist’s eye, and the humble toy which a child’s hand finds among shavings in a little wooden box. AN IRONICAL VOICE [_From among the group of gorgeous prodigies._] The Gallic Cock, in short? CHANTECLER [_Gently, without even turning._] Sure as I am of my aboriginal claim to this soil, I make no point of assuming the name. But, now you mention it, I recognise that when one simply says the Cock, that is the Cock he means! THE BLACKBIRD [_Low to_ CHANTECLER.] I have seen your adversary! CHANTECLER [_Catching sight of the_ PHEASANT-HEN _approaching._] Be still! She must know nothing of this! THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Coquettishly._] Did you come for the sake of seeing me? CHANTECLER [_Bowing._] I am weak, you remember! THE GUINEA-HEN [_Listening to the_ COCHIN-CHINA COCK, _who is talking in an undertone, thickly surrounded by_ HENS.] That Cock from Cochin China is simply awful! CHANTECLER [_Turning._] Enough! THE HENS [_Around the_ COCHIN COCK, _giving little scandalised cries._] Oh!-- THE GUINEA-HEN [_Tickled._] Oh, you naughty bird!--He is quite the most improper of our gallinacea! CHANTECLER [_Louder._] Enough! THE COCHIN-CHINA COCK [_Stops, and with mocking surprise._] Is it the Gallic Cock objecting? CHANTECLER I am not Gallic if you give the word a base or ridiculous meaning. By Jove! Every Hen here knows whether my trumpet blast belongs to a soprano! But your perverse attempts to wring blushes from little baggages in convenient corners outrage my love of Love! It is true that I care more to retain love’s dream than these Cochin-Chinese, who, courting a giggle, use refinement in coarseness, research in vulgarity; true that my blood has swifter flow in a less ponderous body, and that I am not a feathered pig,--but a Cock! THE PHEASANT-HEN Come, come away to the woods,--I love you! CHANTECLER [_Looking around him._] Oh, to see a real being appear! Someone simple, someone-- THE MAGPIE [_Announcing._] Two Pigeons! CHANTECLER [_Drawing a breath of relief._] At last,--pigeons! [_He runs eagerly to the entrance._] THE PIGEONS [_Entering with a series of somersaults._] Hop! CHANTECLER [_Falling back in amazement._] What is this? THE PIGEONS [_Introducing themselves between two springs._] The Tumblers! English Clowns! CHANTECLER Where am I? THE GUINEA-HEN [_Running after the_ TUMBLERS _who disappear among the throng of guests._] Hop! Hop! CHANTECLER Pigeons turning acrobats!--Oh, the joy of seeing something true, something unblemished--