I agree with Baby-Glossy, says Saint Roley. Your story is cruel.
It is cruel to deprive the world of thirty thousand ortolans annually, says Gaius.
It is cruel to tell a baby bird that this happens, in the guise of a story, says Saint Roley.
Without a compass, says Terence.
I didn't say compass, says Baby-Glossy.
A moral compass, says Gaius. You did say that.
Because it wasn't un proper story, says Baby-Glossy.
Did Ivan have a compass? asks Terence.
Who is Ivan? asks Gaius.
The merchant's son in the second story, says Saint Roley.
He had un kaftan, says Baby-Glossy. He put it over the baby birds in the storm.
Ah, I see, says Gaius. Yes, he had a moral compass.
But did his parents put the compass in the boat when they gave him the sleeping potion? asks Terence.
No, says Saint Roley. We can safely assume that they didn't have one.
Back to my story, says Gaius. I was simply attempting to raise awareness of an outdated practice.
And you did, says Saint Roley. Perhaps Baby-Glossy will grow up to become an activist.
NO! says Terence. He can't be an activist.
What is un activist? asks Baby-Glossy.
Doing tricks in a circus, says Terence. You wouldn't like it.
No I wouldn't, says Baby-Glossy.
I might like it, says the Ear, but I'm stuck to Peut-étre.
We're a team, says Peut-étre.
Bricks can't do tricks, says Terence.
Louisa enters the kitchen. Good morning, Gaius. Oh! What's happened?
We're stuck together, says the Ear, so we can't join the circus.
Never mind, says Louisa. You can still have an interesting future, if you're willing.
They're not! says Terence.
We are, says Peut-étre. We'd like a interesting future.
I knew you would, says Louisa.
She opens a drawer and takes out out a grater.
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