Second maid. What are you chirping about to yourself, little cuckoo?
First maid. Why, little bee, you know that the cuckoo goes crazy with delight when she sees the mango-blossom.
Second maid (joyfully). Oh, has the spring really come?
First maid. Yes, little bee. And this is the time when you too buzz about in crazy joy. Second maid. Hold me, dear, while I stand on tiptoe and offer this blossom to Love, the divine.
First maid. If I do, you must give me half the reward of the offering.
Second maid. That goes without saying, dear. We two are one. (She leans on her friend and takes the mango-blossom.) Oh, see! The mango-blossom hasn't opened, but it has broken the sheath, so it is fragrant. (She brings her hands together.) I worship mighty Love.
O mango-twig I give to Love
As arrow for his bow,
Most sovereign of his arrows five,
Strike maiden-targets low.
(She throws the twig. Enter the chamberlain.)
Chamberlain (angrily). Stop, silly girl. The king has strictly forbidden the spring festival. Do you dare pluck the mango-blossoms?
The two maids (frightened). Forgive us, sir. We did not know.