_] No, I must sing where Destiny placed me. I am useful
here, I am beloved--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Remembering what she overheard the night before in the farmyard._] Are
you so sure?--Come away to the woods, where we shall hear real pigeons
cooing tenderly to each other!
THE TURKEY
[_At the back._] Ladies, the great Peacock--
THE PEACOCK
[_Modestly._] The Super-peacock--who supervenes, and supersedes--
THE GUINEA-HEN
Will spread his tail for us! He has expressed his amiable willingness so
far to favour us.
[_The company falls into groups of spectators, the outlandish_ COCKS
_forming a wreath around their patron._]
THE PEACOCK
[_Preparing to spread his tail._] I am, by precious natural gift, in
addition to my multifarious accomplishments something of a--shall I say
artist in firework?
THE GUINEA-HEN
[_Effervescently._] Yes!
THE PEACOCK
No. Pyrotechnist. For the choicest piece in urban gardens, where
Catharine-wheels on festival nights spurt sidereal spray, and rockets
shot into gold-riddled skies fall back in prismatic showers, is less
sapphirine, smaragdine, cuprine--
CHANTECLER
Zounds!
THE PEACOCK
--than, I venture to say, ladies, am I--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Oh, I understood that last word!
THE PEACOCK
--when I unfurl the union of fan, jewel-case, and screen, upon which I
offer to the self-same sunbeams that redden the reed all the joyous gems
you now may contemplate!
CHANTECLER
What a silly bill!
[_The_ PEACOCK _has spread his tail.
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