_The whole barnyard company,_ HENS, CHICKENS, CHICKS, DUCKS, TURKEYS,
_etc.;_ THE BLACKBIRD _in his cage_, THE CAT _asleep on the wall, later_
A BUTTERFLY _on the flowers._
THE WHITE HEN
[_Pecking._] Ah! Delicious!
ANOTHER HEN
What are you eating?
ALL THE HENS
[_Rushing to the spot._] What’s she eating?
THE WHITE HEN
A small green beetle, crisp and nice, tasting of the rose-leaves he had
lived on.
THE BLACK HEN
[_Standing before the_ BLACKBIRD’S _cage._] Really, the Blackbird
whistles amazingly!
THE WHITE HEN
Any little street urchin can do as much!
THE TURKEY
[_Solemnly._] An urchin who had learned of a shepherd in Sicily!
THE DUCK
He never whistles his tune to the end--
THE TURKEY
That’s too easy, carrying it to the end! [_He hums the tune the_
BLACKBIRD _has been whistling._] “How sweet to fare afield, and
cull--and cull--” You should know, Duck, that the thing in art is to
leave off before the end! “And cull--and cull--” Bravo, Blackbird!
[_The_ BLACKBIRD _comes out on the little platform in front of his cage
and bows._]
A CHICK
[_Astonished._] Can he get out?
BLACKBIRD
Applause is salt on my tail!
THE CHICK
But his cage?
THE TURKEY
He can come out, and he can go in again. His cage has that sort of
spring.--“And cull--and cull--” The whole point is missed if you tell
them what you cull!
THE BLACK HEN
[_Catching sight of a_ BUTTERFLY _alighting on the flowers above the
wall at the back._] Oh, what a gorgeous butterfly!
THE WHITE HEN
Where?
THE BLACK HEN
On the honey-suckle.
THE TURKEY
That kind is called an Admiral.
THE CHICK
[_Looking after the_ BUTTERFLY.] Now he has settled on a pink.
THE WHITE HEN
[_To the_ TURKEY.] An Admiral, wherefore?
THE BLACKBIRD
Obviously because he is neither a seaman nor a soldier.
THE WHITE HEN
Our Blackbird has a pretty wit!
THE TURKEY
[_Nodding and swinging his red stalactite._] He has better than wit, my
dear!
ANOTHER HEN
[_Watching the_ BUTTERFLY.] It’s sweet--a butterfly!
THE BLACKBIRD
Easy as possible to make! You take a W and set it on top of a Y!
A HEN
[_Delighted._] A flourish of his bill, and there you have your
caricature!
THE TURKEY
He does better than execute caricatures! Hen, our Blackbird forces you
to think while obliging you to laugh. He is a Teacher in wit’s clothing.
A CHICK
[_To a_ HEN.] Mother, why does the Cat hate the Dog?
THE BLACKBIRD
Because he appropriates his seat at the theatre.
THE CHICK
[_Surprised._] They have a theatre?
THE BLACKBIRD
Where dumb-shows are given.
THE CHICK
Eh?
THE BLACKBIRD
The hearthstone from whence both alike wish to watch the play of the
Fire among the Logs.
THE TURKEY
[_Delighted._] How aptly he conveys that the hatred of peoples is at
bottom a question of wanting the other’s territory. There’s a brain
for you!
THE SPECKLED HEN
[_To the_ WHITE HEN, _who is pecking._] Do you peck peppers?
THE WHITE HEN
Constantly.
THE SPECKLED HEN
How can you stand the sting?
THE WHITE HEN
It imparts to the feathers a delicate rosy tint.
THE SPECKLED HEN
Oh, does it!
A VOICE IN THE DISTANCE
Cuckoo!
THE WHITE HEN
Listen!
THE VOICE
[_From a greater distance._] Cuckoo!
THE WHITE HEN
The Cuckoo!
A GREY HEN
[_Comes running excitedly._] Which Cuckoo? The one who lives in the
woods, or the one who lives in the clock?
THE VOICE
[_Still further off._] Cuckoo!
THE WHITE HEN
The one of the woods.
THE GREY HEN
[_With a sigh of relief._] Oh, I was so afraid of having missed the
other!
THE WHITE HEN
[_Going near enough to her to speak in an undertone._] Do you mean to
say you love him?
THE GREY HEN
[_Sadly._] Without ever having set eyes on him. He lives in a chalet
hanging on the kitchen wall, above the farmer’s great-coat and
fowling-piece. The moment he sings, I rush to the spot, but I never get
there in time to see anything but his little wicket closing. This
evening I mean to stay right here beside the door--[_She takes up her
position on the threshold._]
A VOICE
White Hen!