The Pigeon
You can’t think how we admire him!
The White Hen
Oh, everyone admires him!
The Pigeon
And I promised my missis to tell her what he is like!
The White Hen
[Quietly pecking.] Oh, he’s a fine fellow, no doubt of that!
The Pigeon
We can hear him crowing from our dove-cote. The One he is whose song is more an ornament to the landscape than the white hamlet to the hill! The One he is whose cry pierces the blue horizon like a gold-threaded needle stitching the hill-tops to the sky! The Cock he is! When you would praise him, call him the Cock!
The Blackbird
[Hopping up and down in his cage.] Tick-tock!—who sets all hearts a-beating, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!
A Hen
Our Cock!
The Blackbird
[Thrusting his head between the bars of his cage.] My, thy, his, her, our, your, and their Cock!
The Turkey
[To the Pigeon.] He will soon be coming in from his usual round in the fields.
THE Pigeon
You have the honour of his acquaintance, sir?