The Black Hen
[Standing before the Blackbird’s cage.] Really, the Blackbird whistles amazingly!
The White Hen
Any little street urchin can do as much!
The Turkey
[Solemnly.] An urchin who had learned of a shepherd in Sicily!
The Duck
He never whistles his tune to the end—
The Turkey
That’s too easy, carrying it to the end! [He hums the tune the Blackbird has been whistling.] “How sweet to fare afield, and cull—and cull—” You should know, Duck, that the thing in art is to leave off before the end! “And cull—and cull—” Bravo, Blackbird!
[The Blackbird comes out on the little platform in front of his cage and bows.]
A Chick
[Astonished.] Can he get out?
Blackbird
Applause is salt on my tail!
The Chick
But his cage?
The Turkey
He can come out, and he can go in again. His cage has that sort of spring.—“And cull—and cull—” The whole point is missed if you tell them what you cull!