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Fresh Air runs on, her hair streaming over her shoulders.
Fresh Air.
Stop, fairies, please—a moment's grace, I pray:
Remember that we've work to do to-day.
Cock Robin marries Jenny Wren, and I
Have bidden all the songsters of the sky.
What shall we give them all to eat and drink?
What diet suits them best?—now let me think!
Butler and Cook, assist us with your counsel.

Fairy Butler and Cook come forwaed.
Cook.
[Suggesting.]
Chickweed en Papillote, or scolloped groundsel?

Fresh A.
That don't sound nice!

Cook.
And then, for him who needs,
Have various plates of various kinds of seeds.

Fresh A.
Ah, there I don't agree with what you've said;
I really could'nt give a seedy spread.
Then as to wines, you know—what say you, Butler?

Butler.
Well, speaking as a well-experienced sutler,
There's nothing for young folks so good as water.

Fresh A.
What! at the marriage of my only daughter?
No! Robin loves on cherry-pie to dine;
Jenny, I know, adores sweet currant-wine.
Let currant-wine like water flow to hand,
And cherry-pie on every table stand!

[Cook and Butler bow and go off.
Enter Health, hurriedly.
Health.
Oh, fairy Fresh Air, here's such dreadful news!
All your enchantments you will have to use.

Fresh A.
Why what's the matter? tell me, in a breath!

Health.
Miasma has designed Cock Robin's death!
I overheard him in his filthy fen.
Three former lovers of poor Jenny Wren
Have undertaken it, at his suggestion.

Fresh Air.
And will they do it, think you?

Health.
That's the question.
To the conspirators I'm quite a stranger,
But Robin's life is in no little danger;—
I tried my utmost to avert his fate,
But cruel Miasma would not let me wait.
From his dank pestilential dell he thrust me!
If Robin's killed, you will revive him?

Fresh A.
Trust me!