THE GUINEA-HEN
[Always applauding everything that is said at her receptions.] Good! 
That was extremely good!

A CHICKEN
[To the crestfallen BLACKBIRD.] You will make him smart for this?

THE BLACKBIRD [Prudently.] No.  I will take it out on the Turkey. [At this point a VOICE calls, “Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick!” and all the FANCY COCKS, rushing toward the irresistible call to food, hurry out, tumbling over one another in their haste.]

THE GUINEA-HEN
[Running after them.] Are you going?

A PADUA COCK
[The last to leave.] I beg to be excused! [Disappears.]

THE GUINEA-HEN [In the midst of the hubbub.] Are you going?  Must you go?  Oh, don’t go yet!

CHANTECLER
[To the PHEASANT-HEN.] Come, my golden Pheasant!

THE GUINEA-HEN
[Running to CHANTECLER.] Are you running away?

CHANTECLER
To save my song!

THE GUINEA-HEN [Running to the YOUNG GUINEA-COCK.] My son, I am in such a state—­I am in such—­

A HEN
[Calling after CHANTECLER.] And when shall we see you again?

CHANTECLER
[Before going.] When you have grown teeth! [Off with the
PHEASANT-HEN.]

THE GUINEA-HEN [To the YOUNG GUINEA-COCK.] This has been quite the finest affair of the season! [Darting madly about among the departing guests.] Au revoir!  Mondays in August!  Don’t forget!

THE MAGPIE
[Announcing.] The Tortoise!

ACT FOURTH

THE NIGHT OF THE NIGHTINGALE

In the Forest.  Evening.  Huge trees with thick gnarled roots.  At the base of one of the trees, Time or a lightning stroke has hollowed a sort of chamber.  Rising slopes carpeted with heather.  Rabbit holes.  Mosses.  Toadstools.  Stretched between two ferns, a great cobweb, spangled with water-drops.  At the rise of the curtain, RABBITS are discovered on every side among the underbrush, peacefully inhaling the evening air.  A time of serene silence and coolness.

SCENE FIRST

A RABBIT in front of his burrow, CHOIR OF UNSEEN BIRDS.

A RABBIT It is the hour when with sweet and solemn voices the two warblers, Black-cap of the Gardens, and Red-wing of the Woods, intone the evening prayer.

A VOICE
[Among the branches.] O God of Birds!

ANOTHER VOICE
  O God of Birds! or, rather, for the Hawk
  Has surely not the same God as the Wren,
  O God of Little Birds!

A THOUSAND VOICES
[Among the leaves.] O God of Little Birds!