The Grey Hen
[Taking up her conversation with the White Hen.] As I was telling you, I mean to stay right on the door-step there—[Showing the door of the house.]
The White Hen
[Looking at the door.] The door is shut.
The Grey Hen
Yes, but I shall hear the hour striking, and I will catch a look at my Cuckoo by stretching my neck,—
The Pigeon
[Calling, slightly out of patience.] White Hen!
The White Hen
One moment, please! [To the Grey Hen.]—Catch a look at your Cuckoo, by stretching your neck where?—Where?
The Grey Hen
[Pointing with her beak at the small, round opening at the foot of the door.] Through the cat-hole!
The Pigeon
[Raising his voice to a shout.] Am I to be kept here cooling my feet on your rain-pipe? Hi, there, whitest of Hens!
The White Hen
[Hopping towards him.] You were saying?
The Pigeon
I was about to say—
The White Hen
What, bluest of Pigeons?