OLIVER.  Yes, we saw one just now.

MISSIONARY (shuddering).  Dear, dear, dear.  You didn’t happen to ask him what was the object of his researches?

JILL.  He went so quickly.

MISSIONARY (coming out of the undergrowth to them).  I wonder if you have ever heard of a little rhyme which apparently attributes to the bird in question, when residing in the level pastures of Timbuctoo, an unholy lust for the body and appurtenances thereto of an unnamed clerical gentleman?

OLIVER and JILL (shouting together).  Yes!  Rather!

MISSIONARY.  Dear, dear!  Fortunately—­I say fortunately—­this is not Timbuctoo! (OLIVER slips away and comes back with a notice-board “Timbuctoo,” which he places at the edge of the trees, unseen by the MISSIONARY, who goes on talking to JILL) I take it that a cassowary residing in other latitudes is of a more temperate habit.  His appetite, I venture to suggest, dear lady, would be under better restraint.  That being so, I may perhaps safely——­ (He begins to move off, and comes suddenly up to the notice-board) Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear!  This is terrible!  You said, I think, that the—­ah—­bird in question was moving in this direction?

OLIVER.  That’s right.

MISSIONARY.  Then I shall move, hastily yet with all due precaution, in that direction. (He walks off on tiptoe, looking over his shoulder in case the cassowary should reappear.  Consequently, he does not observe the enormous CANNIBAL who has appeared from the trees on the right, until he bumps into him) I beg your——­ (He looks up) Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear!

CANNIBAL.  Boria, boria, boo!

MISSIONARY.  Yes, my dear sir, it is as you say, a beautiful morning.

CANNIBAL.  Boria, boria, boo!

MISSIONARY.  But I was just going a little walk—­in this direction—­if you will permit me.

CANNIBAL (threateningly).  Boria, boria, boo!

MISSIONARY.  I have noticed it, my dear sir, I have often made that very observation to my parishioners.

CANNIBAL (very threateningly).  Boria, boria, boo!

MISSIONARY.  Oh, what’s he saying?

OLIVER.  He says it’s his birthday to-morrow.

CANNIBAL.  Wurra, wurra wug!

OLIVER.  And will you come to the party?

MISSIONARY (to CANNIBAL).  My dear sir, it is most kind of you to invite me, but a prior engagement in a different part of the country—­a totally unexpected call upon me in another locality—­will unfortunately——­

(While he is talking, the cassowary comes back, sidles up to him, and taps with his beak on the MISSIONARY’S pith-helmet.)

MISSIONARY (absently, without looking round).  Come in! . . .  As I was saying, my dear sir——­ (The bird taps again.  The MISSIONARY turns round annoyed) Can’t you see I’m engaged——­Oh dear, dear, dear, dear, dear!

(He clasps the CANNIBAL in his anguish, recoils from the CANNIBAL and clasps the cassowary.  The three of them go off together, OLIVER and JILL following eagerly behind to see who gets most.)