e takes his way,
But this is all he finds to say:
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!...

HE. By June he gets a trifle flat,
Which is not to be wondered at,
And critical observers note
A huskiness about the throat.
(Huskily) Cuckoo! Cuckoo!...

SHE. Alas! he does not stay for long,
But other birds take up the song
Of summer gently following
The wild and happy days of Spring.
Cuckoo!

(The TALKER conducts with his pipe in his hand, and hums "La, la, la!"
to himself. He pipes the chorus with them. At the conclusion they all
bow or curtsey deeply to the MOTHER.)

MOTHER (half laughing, half crying). Oh!

TALKER (suddenly and dramatically, holding up his hand). Listen!

EVERYBODY. What?

TALKER. Didn't I hear somebody say "cider"?

***

(It is eight days later when we see them again. The DAUGHTER is at the
spinet, playing an accompaniment to the song which she and the SINGER
are sharing for the moment.)

SHE. He does not know I love him,
He does not care;
The sky is blue above him,
The road is there
For those who dare--
Alas! why should he care?

HE. She does not know I love her,
She does not know;
The sky is blue above her,
The soft winds blow
Where violets grow--
Alas! how should she know?

TOGETHER. Yet those who sing
About the Spring
All say it should bring
Two lovers together!
Oh where, oh where
Will you find a pair
So matched as you and I, love?
Come rain or shine,
Come wet or fine,
If you are mine
What matter the weather?
Oh take my hand
And kiss me and
Confess that you are my love.

HE. She does not know I love her--
Ah yes, she knows;
The sky is blue above her,
The buds disclose
The first wild rose--
Ah yes, she knows, she knows!

SHE. He cares not that I love him--
Ah yes, he cares;
The sky is blue above him,
A thrush declares
The world is theirs