JILL (excitedly). Oh, did you bring some?
OLIVER (annoyed). Bring some? (Brightening up) Oh, you mean from the wreck?
JILL (hastily). Yes, from the wreck. I mean besides the axe and the bag of nails and the gunpowder.
OLIVER. Couldn't. The ship sank with all hands before I could get them. But it doesn't matter, because (going up to one of the trees) I recognise this as the bull's-eye tree. (He picks a couple of bull's-eyes and gives one to her.)
JILL. Oh, Oliver, how lovely! Thank you. (She puts it in her mouth.)
OLIVER (sucking hard). There was nothing but breadfruit trees here the first time I was marooned on it. Rotten things to have on a decent island. So I planted a bull's-eye tree, and a barley-sugar-cane grove, and one or two other things, and made a jolly ripping place of it.
JILL (pointing). What's that tree over there?
OLIVER. That one? Rice-pudding tree.
JILL (getting up indignantly). Oliver! Take me back to the boat at once.
OLIVER. I say, shut up, Jill. You didn't think I meant it for you, did you?