_] Gentlemen and honored
Batrachians, my voice, it is true, gives forth natural notes--
THE BIG TOAD
Yes, notes which lend us wings--
CHANTECLER
[_Modestly._] Oh!
ALL
[_Waggling their bodies as if about to fly._] Wings!
THE BIG TOAD
Their secret being that they sing Life!
CHANTECLER
That is true.
SECOND TOAD
Yes, my dear fellow, Life!
CHANTECLER
[_With careless complacency._] My crest for that reason is flesh and blood!
ALL THE TOADS
[_Clapping their little hands._] Good, very good!
THE BIG TOAD
That formula is a programme.
SECOND TOAD
Since we are assembled around a table, why should we not offer to the
Chief--
CHANTECLER
[_Modestly, hanging back from the suggested honour._]Gentlemen--
SECOND TOAD
--to the Chief of whom we stood in notable need, a banquet?
ALL
[_Beating enthusiastically upon the toadstool._] A banquet!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Looking out from the tree._] What is the matter?
CHANTECLER
[_In spite of all, rather flattered._] A banquet!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Slightly ironical._] Shall you accept?
CHANTECLER
You see, my dear--the new tendencies--Art,--the thinking contingency of
the Forest--[_Indicating the_ TOADS.] Yes, I have lent wings to--[_In a
light and careless tone._] It's all up with the Nightingale, you see.
Musty old method! Antiquated trill! This is the way he goes on--[_To
the_ TOADS.] How was it you said he went on?
ALL THE TOADS
[_Comically.
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