_] Ready to spring! [_Dimly visible against a tree, is,
in fact, a spread bird-net._]
CHANTECLER
[_Examining it._] A dangerous contrivance.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Forbidden by the game-laws of 44.
CHANTECLER
[_Laughing._] Do you know that?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
You seem to forget that the object of your affections comes under the
head of game.
CHANTECLER
[_With a touch of sadness._] It is true that we are of different kinds.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Returning to his side with a hop._] I want you to love me more than
her. Say it's me you love most. Say it's me!
THE WOODPECKER
[_Reappearing._] I!
CHANTECLER
[_Looking up._] Not in a love-scene.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To the_ WOODPECKER.] See here,--you! Be so kind another time as to knock!
WOODPECKER
[_Disappearing._] Certainly. Certainly.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_To_ CHANTECLER.] He has a bad habit of thrusting his bill between the
bark and the tree, but he is a rare scholar, exceptionally well
informed--
CHANTECLER
[_Absent-mindedly._] On what subjects?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
The language of birds.
CHANTECLER
Indeed?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
For, you know, the birds when they say their prayers speak the common
language, but when they chat together in private they use a twittering
dialect, wholly onomatopoetic.
CHANTECLER
They talk Japanese. [_The_ WOODPECKER _knocks three times with his bill
on the tree: Rat-tat-tat!_] Come in!
THE WOODPECKER
[_Appearing, indignant.
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