He is blood red, because he is the bravest, gayest, most ardent lover of the whole woods," explained the Harvester.
The Girl leaned forward breathlessly watching and a slow surge of colour crept into her cheeks.

The red bird twisted, whistled, rocked, tilted, and trilled, and the gray sat demurely watching him, as if only half convinced he really meant it.

The gay lover began at the beginning and said it all over again with more impassioned gestures than before, and then he edged in touch and softly stroked her wing with his beak.
She appeared startled, but did not fly.

So again the fountain of half-whistled, half-trilled notes bubbled with the acme of pleading intonation and that time he leaned and softly kissed her as she reached her bill for the caress.

Then she fled in headlong flight, while the streak of flame darted after her.