The Pheasant-hen
You see that one can have the Dawn at a smaller cost. Is the sky any less red for your only crowing once?
Chantecler
No.
The Pheasant-hen
Well then? [Offering her bill.] A kiss! [Finding his kiss absent-minded.] You are thinking of something else. Please attend! [Reverting to her idea.] Why should you wear yourself out? You were simply squandering the precious copper of your voice. Daylight is all very well, but one must live! Oh! the male creature! If we were not there, with what sad frequency he would be fooled!
Chantecler
[With conviction.] Yes, but you are there, you see.
The Pheasant-hen
It is barbarous anyhow to keep up a perpetual cockaduddling when I am trying to sleep.
Chantecler
[Gently correcting her.] Doodling, dearest.
The Pheasant-hen
Duddling is correct.
Chantecler
Doodling.
The Pheasant-hen
[Raising her head toward the top of the tree and calling.] Mr. Woodpecker! [To Chantecler.] We will ask the learned gentleman in the green coat. [To the Woodpecker the upper half of whose figure appears at a round hole high up in the tree trunk; his coat is green, his waistcoat buff, and he wears a red skull-cap.] Do you say cockaduddling or cockadoodling?
The Woodpecker
[Bending a long professorial bill.] Both.