THE BLACKBIRD
Back numbers!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Oh?

THE BLACKBIRD They have eyelashes, fancy, all the way round their eyes!  It’s too much of a good thing, really.—­And that black plot, those desperately dark designs, all that belongs to the year one; you can see moss growing on its back!

THE PHEASANT-HEN [Fluttering hither and thither feverishly.] I am never quite sure of understanding when a person is talking in fun.

THE BLACKBIRD
[Winking at her.] No flies on your acting!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Surely you wouldn’t be laughing if he were in danger?  Those ruffians—?

THE BLACKBIRD
Prattlers!  Wooden Swords!  Knights of Hot Air!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
But Scops—?

THE BLACKBIRD
A stuffed Owl!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
And the Great Bubo—?

THE BLACKBIRD
Just two ten-candle-power lamps, to be turned on and off with a
switch,—­crick-crack!  And Flammeolus, two lamps likewise—­but acetylene!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Bewildered by his imagery.] And so—?

THE BLACKBIRD
No, trembling Gypsy, there’s not enough in this great plot to choke a
flea withal!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Truly?  I have been so horribly afraid—­

THE BLACKBIRD Fear, I warn you, lovely Zingara, leads to dyspepsia!  It’s because he keeps his eye closed and buried in the sand that the ostrich has preserved his famous digestion!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
So it might seem.

THE BLACKBIRD
We have in these latter days bowed Tragedy respectfully out of the
house!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
But had we not best warn Chantecler, so that—­

THE BLACKBIRD
He would go instantly and challenge them.  And then such a whetting of
steel!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
You are right.  So he would.

THE BLACKBIRD
On your principle, mad Gitana, an oak-gall could be made into a world.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
You have much good sense.

THE BLACKBIRD
Daughter of the forest, I have.

CHANTECLER’S VOICE
[Outside.] Coa—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Chantecler!

CHANTECLER [Approaching on the left, between the hollies, calls from afar.] Who is there?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
It is I!

CHANTECLER
[Still from a distance.] Alone?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[With a significant look at the BLACKBIRD.] Yes, alone.

THE BLACKBIRD
[Understanding.] I vanish—­I am off to supper.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Low to the BLACKBIRD.] And so—?

THE BLACKBIRD [Motioning her to be silent.] Keep it dark! [As he is leaving, by the right, in the manner of one giving an order to a waiter.] Earwigs for one!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Low.] It is wiser, you think, not to tell him?