THE LIME-TREE I do not remember ever having seen them....
THE POPLAR Oh, yes, you must have!... You know all the men; you're always hanging about their houses....
THE LIME-TREE (examining the CHILDREN) No, I assure you.... I don't know them.... They are too young still.... I only know the lovers who come to see me by moonlight and the topers who drink their beer under my branches....
THE CHESTNUT-TREE (affectedly adjusting his eyeglass) Who are these?... Are they poor people from the country?...
THE POPLAR Oh, as for you, Mr. Chestnut-Tree, ever since you have refused to show yourself except in the streets of the big towns...
THE WILLOW (hobbling along in a pair of wooden shoes) Oh dear, oh dear!... They have come to cut off my head and arms again for fagots!...
THE POPLAR Silence!... Here is the Oak leaving his palace!... He looks far from well this evening.... Don't you think he is growing very old?... What can his age be?... The Fir-tree says he is four thousand; but I am sure that he exaggerates.... Listen; he will tell us all about it....
(The OAK comes slowly forward. He is fabulously old, crowned with mistletoe and clad in a long green gown edged with moss and lichen. He is blind; his white beard streams in the wind. He leans with one hand on a knotty stick and with the other on a young OAKLING, who serves as his guide. The Blue Bird is perched on his shoulder. At his approach, the other trees draw themselves up in a row and bow respectfully.)
TYLTYL He has the Blue Bird!... Quick! Quick!... Here!... Give it to me!...
THE TREES Silence!...