CHANTECLER [_Who is a different bird since the_ PHEASANT-HEN’S _exit, light-hearted, boyishly cheerful._] No, but the blue morning-glory opening in his cage amid the wistaria, communicates by subterranean filaments with this white convolvulus trembling above the pool. [_Going to the convolvulus._] So that by talking into its chalice--[_He plunges his bill into one of the trembling milky trumpets._] Hello! THE WOODPECKER [_Nodding to himself._] From the Greek, _allos_, another. He talks with another. CHANTECLER Hello! The Blackbird, please! THE WOODPECKER [_Keeping watch._] Most imprudent, this is! To choose among the convolvuli exactly the one which-- CHANTECLER [_Lighter and lighter of mood, returning to the_ WOODPECKER.] But it’s the only one open all night! When the Blackbird answers, the Bee who sleeps in the flower wakes up and we-- THE BEE [_Inside the convolvulus._] Vrrrrrrrrr! CHANTECLER [_Briskly running to the flower and listening at the horn-shaped receiver._] Ah? This morning, did you say? THE WOODPECKER [_Filled with curiosity._] What is it? CHANTECLER [_In a voice of sudden emotion._] Thirty chicks have been born! [_Listening again._] Briffaut, the hunting-dog, is ill? [_As if something interfered with his hearing._] I believe it is the Dragon-flies, deafening us with the crackling of their wings--[_Shouting._] Will you be so kind, young ladies, as not to cut us off? [_Listening._] And big Julius obliges Patou to go with him on his hunting expeditions? [_To the_ WOODPECKER.] Ah, you ought to know my friend Patou! [_Burying his bill again in the flower._] So? Without me everything goes wrong? Yes! [_With satisfaction._] Yes! Waste and carelessness naturally! THE WOODPECKER [_Who has been keeping watch, warns him suddenly under breath._] Here she comes! CHANTECLER [_With his bill in the flower._] Indeed? THE WOODPECKER [_Fluttering desperately._] Hush! CHANTECLER The Ducks spent the night under the cart, did they? THE WOODPECKER Pst! SCENE FOURTH THE SAME, THE PHEASANT-HEN THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Who has come upon the scene, with a threatening gesture at the_ WOODPECKER.] Go inside! [_The_ WOOD PECKER _precipitately disappears. She stands listening to_ CHANTECLER.] CHANTECLER [_In the convolvulus, more and more deeply interested._] You don’t mean it! What, all of them?--Yes?--No--Oh!--Well, well!--Is that so? THE WOODPECKER [_Who has timidly come back, aside._] Oh, that an ant of the heaviest might weigh down his tongue! CHANTECLER [_Talking into the flower._] So soon? The Peacock out of fashion? THE WOODPECKER [_Trying to get_ CHANTECLER’S _attention behind the_ PHEASANT-HEN’S _back._] Pst! THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Turning around, furious._] You!--You had better! [_The_ WOODPECKER _alertly retires, bumping his head._]