Chantecler
I told you! It is already green!
The Pheasant-hen
The green is turning to orange—
Chantecler
You will have been the first this morning to see the transformation!
[The distant plain takes on velvety purplish hues.]
The Pheasant-hen
It all seems to end in leagues of purple heather.
Chantecler
[Whose crow is beginning to tire.] Cock-a-doo—
The Pheasant-hen
Oh—yellow among the pine trees!
Chantecler
Gold it ought to be,—gold!
The Pheasant-hen
And pearly grey—
Chantecler
It shall be white!—I haven’t done it yet! Cock-a-doodle-doo—It’s very bad so far, but I won’t give up!