The Pheasant-hen
[Close behind him.] Now is the time to kiss me.
Chantecler
All those Rabbits looking on make it a trifle—
The Pheasant-hen
[Suddenly flaps her wings; the frightened Rabbits start, on all sides white tails disappear into rabbit-holes. The Pheasant-hen coming back to Chantecler.] There! [They bill.] Do you love my forest?
Chantecler
I love it, for no sooner had I crossed its verdant border than I got back my song. Let us go to roost. I must sing very early to-morrow.
The Pheasant-hen
[Imperiously.] But one song only!
Chantecler
Yes.
The Pheasant-hen
For a month I have only allowed you one song.
Chantecler
[Resignedly.] Yes.
The Pheasant-hen
And has the Sun not risen just the same?
Chantecler
[In a tone of unwilling admission.] The Sun has risen.