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—