OTHER. Is that all you can give me?

(The TALKER gets up and walks about, frowning to himself. Suddenly he
takes out his pipe, plays "cuckoo" to himself very solemnly, and is
immensely relieved thereby. He comes back to the MOTHER with a beaming
face.)

TALKER. Madame, I will tell you a story. (Holding up his hand to stop
any expostulation) No, quite a short one. Once on a time there was
a certain noble gentleman, a baron of estates and family. Conceiving
himself to be in love, he dared to put it to the touch to win or lose
it all. I regret to say that he lost it all. In a fit of melancholy
he abjured society, cursed all women and took to the road. A pleasant
melancholy gentleman. I made him a duke.

MOTHER (eagerly, indicating the door out of which the duke has just
gone). You mean he really is--

TALKER. We will name no names, madame. I doubt not I have no right to
speak of him to another. It is just a story. (Putting his pipe to his
lips) Cuck-oo!

MOTHER. Poor child, she is not happy here. We live so quietly; we have
no neighbours. I have wondered what to do--it seemed that I could do so
little. If only I could be sure--(Suddenly) Master Johannes, do you like
the look of this house with its little stream opposite, and the green
bank running down, on which one may lie on one's back and look up at the
sky?

TALKER. Did we not single it out above all others by having our bread
and cheese outside it?

MOTHER. Will you all stay with me for a little? I think I can find room
for you. Before I can lend my daughter to you, I feel that I must know
something of you. I think that is the best way, is it not? (With a very
friendly smile) The cider is good, you know.

TALKER (rising and boning). Madame, we need say no more.

[The other three come in. The DAUGHTER has found from somewhere a cap
with a red feather in it. They stand in a row opposite the MOTHER, and
to the FIDDLER'S accompaniment sing a merry song.]

TOGETHER. The cuckoo comes in April,
Sings his song in May,
Changes his tune in the middle of June,
And then he flies away.

HE. The cuckoo comes when April's here--
He is not very good, I fear.
He goes and takes another nest--
Perhaps he does it for the best.
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!...

SHE. When April's over he begins
Repenting of his former sins;
From tree to tree h