CHANTECLER [Slightly out of patience.] Why not make a practice of talking simply and to the point?

THE BLACKBIRD
I like to make you sit up, and watch you blinking.

PATOU
Grrrrr—­in the plain interest of public decency, I say it behooves us—­

THE BLACKBIRD
Don’t say behooves, say it’s up to you, old chap!

CHANTECLER
What’s all this juggling with words?

THE BLACKBIRD
The thing, Chantecler, quite the thing!  I knew a city sparrow once, and
it’s the way they talk in fashionable circles.

CHANTECLER
I was well acquainted with a little red-breast, who lived beneath a city
poet’s eaves; he did not talk like you.

THE BLACKBIRD
I belong to my time.  Every chap that’s a bit of a swell nowadays must be
a bit of a tough.  It’s smart, you know.

PATOU
I froth at the mouth!  Smart,—­there’s the Peacock’s password!

CHANTECLER
Oh, the Peacock, by the way, what is he doing these days?

THE BLACKBIRD
Ogling with his tail-feathers!

PATOU
Baneful his example has been to many an humble heart.

CHANTECLER
What signs do you see of his influence?

PATOU
A thousand nothings.

THE OLD HEN [Appearing.] Bubbles floating down the stream tell of laundresses up stream! [The lid drops.]

CHANTECLER
I am sure I have not seen the smallest bubble from which—­

PATOU
[Indicating a GUINEA-PIG, who is passing.] See there, that
Guinea-pig—­

CHANTECLER
[Considering him.] What about him?  He is just a yellow Guinea-pig!

GUINEA-PIG
[Snippily correcting.] Khaki, if you please!

CHANTECLER
[To PATOU.] Kha—?

PATOU
A bubble!—­And yonder waddling duck—­

CHANTECLER
[Looking at him.] He is going to take his bath—­

THE DUCK
[Drily.] My tub!

CHANTECLER
His—?

PATOU
A bubble!

[A long grating noise is heard within the house Crrrrrrr, then.]

THE CLOCK
Cuckoo!

THE GREY HEN [Leaving her hiding-place and running towards the cat-hole.] His voice!—­Now through the kitty’s little door I finally shall see him! [She thrusts her head into the hole.  The CUCKOO’S call is not repeated.] Oh, deary, deary me!  I am too late! [Calling.] Bis!  Encore!

CHANTECLER
[Turning around at the noise.] Eh?

THE GREY HEN
[Desperately, with her head in the cat-hole.] He has stopped!

THE BLACKBIRD
It was the half-hour.

CHANTECLER [Close behind the GREY HEN, abruptly.] How does it happen, my love, that we are not in the fields?

THE GREY HEN
[Turning, scared.] Goodness gracious!

CHANTECLER
What are we doing, my love, in the cat-hole?