[Darting past like a streak of blue lightning.] Ha, ha!
The Jay shakes with homeric laughter.
[Crying in the midst of the music of the morning.] Let him live!
[Again darting past.] Ha, ha!
[In the distance.] Cuckoo!
[Lifting his eyes heavenward.] She abdicates!
Forgive, O Light, to whom I dared dispute him! Dazzle the eye taking
aim, and be victory awarded, O Sunbeams—
THE JAY and the CUCKOO
[Far away.] Ha! Cuckoo!
THE PHEASANT-HEN —to your powder of gold—[A shot. She gives a sharp cry, ending in a dying voice.]—over man’s black powder! [Silence.]
[Very far away.] Cock-a-doodle-doo!
[In a glad cry.] Saved!
THE RABBITS [Capering gaily out of their burrows.] Let us turn somersets among the thyme!
[Fresh and solemn, among the trees.] O God of birds!
THE RABBITS [Stopping short in their antics stand abruptly still; soberly.] The morning prayer!
[Crying to the PHEASANT-HEN.] They are coming to examine the trap!
[Closes her eyes in resignation.] So be it!
THE VOICE IN THE TREES
God by whose grace we wake to this new day—
[Before leaving.] Hush! Drop the curtain! Men folk are coming! [Off.]
[All the woodland creatures hide. The PHEASANT-HEN is left alone, and, held down by the snare, with spread wings and panting breast, awaits the approach of the giant.]