The cry was beyond doubt a courting male and this an indifferent female.
Her beady eyes snapped, her head turned coquettishly, a picture of self-possession, she hid among the dense twigs of the spice thicket.
Around the outside circled the pleading male.
With shining eyes the Harvester watched.

These were of the things that made life in the woods most worth while.

More insistent grew the wavering notes of the lover.

More indifferent became the beloved.

She was superb in her poise as she amused herself in hiding.