The Blackbird
[Thrusting his head between the bars.] Easy as possible to make, a Cock!
The Turkey
[Admiringly.] Admirable amenity!
The Blackbird
You take a melon—a fine specimen, I will grant,—for the trunk. For the legs, two sticks of asparagus,—prize sticks, of course. For the head, a red pepper,—as handsome as you may find. For the eye, a currant,—exceptionally clear and light. For the tail, a sheaf of leeks, with luxuriant blue-green flags. For the ear, a dainty kidney-bean, —extra, superfine!—And there you have him, there’s your Cock!
The Pigeon
[Gently.] One thing you have omitted—His heavenly clarion call!
The Blackbird
[Indicating Chantecler, who now appears upon the wall.] Yes, but with the exception of that—slight detail, you must own my portrait is a likeness.
The Pigeon
Not at all. Not in the very least. [Contemplating Chantecler with a very different eye from the Blackbird’s.] What I see, beneath that quivering helmet, is Summer’s glorious and favoured knight, who, from a groaning wain at evening borrowing its golden harvest-robe has arrayed himself in this, and lifts it from the dust with a gleaming sickle!
Chantecler
[On the wall, in a long guttural sigh.] Coa—
The Blackbird
When he makes that noise in his throat, he either is in love, or preparing some poetic outburst.
Chantecler
[Motionless on the wall, with head high.] Blaze forth in glory!—Dazzle—
The Blackbird
He’s letting off hot air!