CHANTECLER
Ye gods, how ugly they are!

THE BIG TOAD [Obsequiously.]—­in behalf of all the thinking contingency of the Forest, to the author of so many songs—­[He places his hand on his heart.]

CHANTECLER
[With disgust.] Oh, that hand spread over his paunch!

THE BIG TOAD
[With a hop toward CHANTECLER.]—­at once novel,—­

ANOTHER TOAD
[Same business.] Pellucid!

ANOTHER
[Same business.] Succinct!

ANOTHER
[Same business.] Vital!

ANOTHER
[Same business.] Pure!

ANOTHER
[Same business.] Great!

CHANTECLER
Gentlemen, pray be seated. [They seat themselves around a large
toadstool.]

THE BIG TOAD
True, we are ugly—­

CHANTECLER
[Politely.] You have fine eyes.

THE BIG TOAD [Raising himself by bearing with both hands upon the rim of the toadstool.] But, Knights of this fungoid Round Table, we desire to do homage to the Parsifal who has given to the world a sublime song—­

SECOND TOAD
A true song!

THE BIG TOAD
And a celestial!

THIRD TOAD
And a no less terrestrial!

THE BIG TOAD
[With authority.] A song by comparison with which the song of the
Nightingale sinks into insignificance!

CHANTECLER
[Astonished.] The Nightingale’s song?

SECOND TOAD
[In a tone of finality.] Is not a circumstance to yours!

THE BIG TOAD
[With a hop.] It was high time that a new singer—­

ANOTHER
[Same business.] And a new song—­

FIFTH TOAD
[Quickly, to his neighbour.] And a song by a stranger—­

THE BIG TOAD
Came to change conditions here.

CHANTECLER
Ah, I shall change conditions?

ALL
Glory to the Cock!

CHANTECLER
I do not see that the forest thinks so poorly of me after all!

THE BIG TOAD
Played out, the Nightingale!

CHANTECLER
[More and more surprised.] Really?

SECOND TOAD
More and more his song confesses itself effete—­

THE BIG TOAD
Mawkish!

THIRD TOAD
Null!

FOURTH
[Contemptuously.] And his old-fashioned pretense of inspiration!

FIFTH TOAD
And the name he has adopted:  Bul-bul!

ALL THE TOADS
[Puffing with laughter.] Bul-bul!

THE BIG TOAD
This is the way he goes on:  [Parodying the song of the NIGHTINGALE.]
Tio!  Tio!

SECOND TOAD
His solitary idea is an old silver trill copied from the bubbling
spring. [He imitates in grotesque fashion the singing of the
NIGHTINGALE.] Tio!  Tio!

CHANTECLER
But—­

THE BIG TOAD [Quickly.] Do not attempt, you, the Renovator of Art, to defend that ancient high authority on sentimental gargling!