OLIVER. Silly! It's a cassowary, of course.
JILL. What's a cassowary?
OLIVER. Jill! Don't you remember the rhyme?
I wish I were a cassowary
Upon the plains of Timbuctoo
And then I'd eat a missionary—
And hat and gloves and hymn-book too!
JILL. Is that all they're for?
OLIVER. Well, what else would you want them for?
(A MISSIONARY, pith-helmet, gloves, hymn-book, umbrella, all complete—creeps cautiously up. He bears a strong likeness to the curate, the REVEREND SMILAX.)