THE PHEASANT-HEN [Suddenly flaps her wings; the frightened RABBITS start, on all sides white tails disappear into rabbit-holes.  The PHEASANT-HEN coming back to CHANTECLER.] There! [They bill.] Do you love my forest?

CHANTECLER
I love it, for no sooner had I crossed its verdant border than I got
back my song.  Let us go to roost.  I must sing very early to-morrow.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Imperiously.] But one song only!

CHANTECLER
Yes.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
For a month I have only allowed you one song.

CHANTECLER
[Resignedly.] Yes.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
And has the Sun not risen just the same?

CHANTECLER
[In a tone of unwilling admission.] The Sun has risen.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
You see that one can have the Dawn at a smaller cost.  Is the sky any
less red for your only crowing once?

CHANTECLER
No.

THE PHEASANT-HEN Well then? [Offering her bill.] A kiss! [Finding his kiss absent-minded.] You are thinking of something else.  Please attend! [Reverting to her idea.] Why should you wear yourself out?  You were simply squandering the precious copper of your voice.  Daylight is all very well, but one must live!  Oh! the male creature!  If we were not there, with what sad frequency he would be fooled!

CHANTECLER
[With conviction.] Yes, but you are there, you see.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
It is barbarous anyhow to keep up a perpetual cockaduddling when I am
trying to sleep.

CHANTECLER
[Gently correcting her.] Doodling, dearest.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Duddling is correct.

CHANTECLER
Doodling.

THE PHEASANT-HEN [Raising her head toward the top of the tree and calling.] Mr. Woodpecker! [To CHANTECLER.] We will ask the learned gentleman in the green coat. [To the WOODPECKER the upper half of whose figure appears at a round hole high up in the tree trunk; his coat is green, his waistcoat buff, and he wears a red skull-cap.] Do you say cockaduddling or cockadoodling?

THE WOODPECKER
[Bending a long professorial bill.] Both.

CHANTECLER and the PHEASANT-HEN
[Turning to each other, triumphantly.] Ah!

THE WOODPECKER
Duddling is more tender, doodling more poetic. [He disappears.]

CHANTECLER
It is for you I cockaduddle!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Yes, but you cockadoodle for the Dawn!

CHANTECLER
[Going toward her.] I do believe you are jealous!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Retreating coquettishly.] Do you love me more than her?

CHANTECLER
[With a cry of warning.] Be careful, a snare!

THE PHEASANT-HEN [Jumping aside.] Ready to spring! [Dimly visible against a tree, is, in fact, a spread bird-net.]