A VERY FINE DANCER INDEED 167 
Now the Cock-of-the-Rock is a very fine dancer 
indeed, and he has a regular place to dance and 
play in, which we may call his ball-room, or his 
drawing-room, or his play-ground—whichever name 
we like best. He chooses it in some part of the 
forest where it is a little open, and where the ground 
is soft and mossy, and here, every day, a number 
of birds assemble, some males and some females; 
for of course the hen-birds come too, there would 
be nothing to dance for without them. Then first 
one of the cocks walks out into the middle of the 
open space and begins to dance. He flutters and 
waves his wings, moves his head, with its wonderful 
crimson tea-cosy, from side to side, and hops about 
with the queerest little jumpy steps you ever saw. 
As he goes on he gets more and more excited, 
springs higher and higher into the air, waves his 
wings more and more violently, and shakes his head 
as if he were trying to shake off the tea-cosy, so 
as to have a cup of tea to refresh himself. All the 
other birds stand and look at him, criticise his 
performance, turn their heads towards each other, 
and make remarks, you may be sure. ‘‘ How 
elegant !”’ exclaims a young hen Cock-of-the-Rock. 
“What spring! What elasticity! Really he is a 
very fine performer.” ‘I have seen finer ones in 
my time,” says an older hen—in fact quite an 
