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Suddenly the bird begins to sing. The old woman whirls on it angrily. narrator: "Stop it! Stop that singing, you ninny! I am no softhearted fool. You can't charm me with your song!" But the bird continued to raise its beautiful voice, as if pleading with the old woman to love it. The old woman flew into a rage. She scuttles over to the bird and strikes it down with her spoon, then crouches over it with her back to the audience. narrator: She bent muttering over the stricken bird. She drew a sharp knife from her belt and bent to pry the delicate yellow beak apart. The warbling is cut off short. narrator: "There!" she said, "without a tongue, you will sing no more, my pretty." |
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