highfalutin' dame!--Get on to the waistcoat will you?

CHANTECLER
[_Continuing the round._] The hay-cock. The old wall. The wall, when I
sing, is alive with lizards, the hay-cock bends to listen. I sing on the
spot where you see the earth scratched up, and when I have sung, I drink
in the bowl over there.

PHEASANT-HEN
Your song then is a matter of importance?

CHANTECLER
[_Seriously._] The greatest.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Why?

CHANTECLER
That is my secret.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
If I should ask you to tell me?

CHANTECLER
[_Turning the conversation, and showing a pile of brushwood tied in
bundles._] My friends, the fagots.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Stolen from my forest!--So what they say is true?--you have a secret?