The Toad
[In a tone of sincerest suffering.] I am, but when I hear somebody else singing, I can’t help it,—I see green! [He joins his companions.]
The Big Toad
[Working his jaws as if chewing something which foamed.] There foam up beneath our tongues I know not what strange soapsuds, and—[To his neighbour.] Are you frothing?
The Other
I am frothing.
Another
He is frothing.
All
We are frothing.
A Toad
[Tenderly laying his arm about the neck of a dilatory Toad.] Come and froth!
Chantecler
[To the Nightingale.] But will they not trouble and prevent your mellifluent song?
The Nightingale
In no wise. I will take their refrain into my song—
The Big Toad
[Patting a little Toad on the head to encourage him.] Don’t be afraid, go ahead,—froth!
The Toads
[All together, at the base of the tree to which they form a crawling, writhing girdle.] The Toads, croak! croak! the Toads are we!