[The TURKEY turns quickly around, the lid has already dropped.]

THE PIGEON [To the WHITE HEN.] Is it a fact that Chantecler is never hoarse, never the very least husky?

THE WHITE HEN
[Keeping on with her pecking.] Perfectly true.

THE PIGEON [With growing enthusiasm.] Ah, you must be proud Cock who will be numbered among Illustrious Animals and his name remembered five, ten, fifteen years!

THE TURKEY
Very proud.  Very proud. [To a CHICK.] Who are the Illustrious Animals? 
Tell them off!

THE CHICK [Reciting a lesson.] Noah’s Dove—­Saint Rocco’s Poodle—­The—­the Horse of Cali—­

THE TURKEY
Cali—?

THE CHICK
[Trying to remember.] Cali—­

THE PIGEON
This Cock, now—­this Cock of yours—­Is it true that his song attunes,
inspires, encourages, makes labour light, and keeps off birds of prey?

THE WHITE HEN
[Pecking.] Perfectly true.

THE CHICK
[Still hunting for his word.] Cali—­Cali—­

THE PIGEON
White Hen, is it true that by his song, defender of the warm and sacred
egg, he has frequently kept the lissome weasel from—­

THE BLACKBIRD
[Looking out between the bars.]—­messing his shirtfront with omelette?

THE WHITE HEN
Perfectly true.

THE CHICK
Cali—­

THE TURKEY
[Helping him.] Gu?

THE CHICK
Gu—­

THE PIGEON
Is it true—?

THE CHICK
[Jumping for joy at having found.] Gula!

THE PIGEON —­true that, as report says, he has a secret for his amazing singing, a secret whereby his crow becomes the brilliant burst of red which makes the poppies of the field feel themselves contemptible imitations?

THE WHITE HEN
[Weary of this questioning.] Perfectly true.

THE PIGEON
That secret, that great secret, is it known to anyone?

THE WHITE HEN
No.

THE PIGEON
He has not even told his Hen?

THE WHITE HEN
[Correcting him.] His Hens.

THE PIGEON
[Slightly shocked.] Ah, he has more than one?

THE BLACKBIRD
He crows, remember, you only coo.

THE PIGEON
Well, then, he has not even told his favourite?

THE TUFTED HEN
[Promptly.] No, he has not!

THE WHITE HEN
[As promptly.] No, he has not!

THE BLACK HEN
[As promptly.] No, he has not!

THE BLACKBIRD [Thrusting out his head.] Hush!—­An aërial drama!  The Butterfly, absorbed in his head of blossom, banquets, all oblivious of—­

[A great green gauze butterfly-net appears above the wall, softly coming towards the BUTTERFLY settled on one of the flowers.]

A HEN
What is that?

THE TURKEY
[Solemnly.] Fate!