THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Panting, tragically earnest._] I ran all the way.--You were
there.--Oh, I am half dead with terror!--Well you must have overheard
their dreadful secret! You, his friend!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Cheerfully rummaging among the moss._] Or the thigh of a katydid will
do.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
I was watching from a distance. I crouched in a ditch--[_In an anguished
voice._] Well?
THE BLACKBIRD
[_In genuine surprise._] Well, what?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Their conspiracy--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Calmly._] It all went off very nicely.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
What do you mean?
THE BLACKBIRD
The shadow was a correct and appropriate blue, and the Owls said
perfectly characteristic things.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_In wild alarm._] Heavens, they plotted his death?
THE BLACKBIRD
His decease, which is not nearly so bad.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
But--
THE BLACKBIRD
Don’t smite your brow! In spite of the Screech-Owl’s grave and
self-important tone, I shouldn’t wonder if it all amounted to
very little.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Those Owls--
THE BLACKBIRD
Are good enough in their various parts, but it’s the old excessive style
of acting.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
I beg your pardon?
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?
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Before disappearing among the flower-pots._] Well, rather!