The Tufted Hen
[Promptly.] No, he has not!
The White Hen
[As promptly.] No, he has not!
The Black Hen
[As promptly.] No, he has not!
The Blackbird
[Thrusting out his head.] Hush!—An aÎrial drama! The Butterfly, absorbed in his head of blossom, banquets, all oblivious of—
[A great green gauze butterfly-net appears above the wall, softly coming towards the Butterfly settled on one of the flowers.]
A Hen
What is that?
The Turkey
[Solemnly.] Fate!
The Blackbird
In a thin disguise of gauze!
The White Hen
Oh, a net—at the end of a cane!
The Blackbird
No harm in the cane—it’s the kid at the other end of the cane! [Half aloud, watching the Butterfly.] You neat little fop, sailing from rose to rose, to-night you’ll be neat as a pin can make you!