THE LITTLE MOA

(_and how much it is_).

I have been reading a lot about Polynesia lately, and the conclusion has

been forced upon me that dining out in that neighbourhood might be

rather confusing to a stranger.

Imagine yourself at one of these Antipodean functions. Your host is

seated at the head of the table with a large fowl before him. Looking

pleasantly in your direction he says:--

"Will you have a little moa?"

Not being well up in the subject of exotic fauna you will be tempted to

make one of the following replies:--

(1) (With _Alice in Wonderland_ in your mind) "How can I possibly have

more when I haven't had anything at all yet?"

(2) "Yes, please, a lot more, or just a little more," as capacity and

appetite dictate.

(3) "No, thank you."

The objection to reply No. 1 is that it may cause unpleasantness, or

your host may retort, "I didn't ask you if you would have a little more

moa," and thus increase your embarrassment.

No. 2 is a more suitable rejoinder, but probably No. 3 is the safest

reply, as some of these big birds require a lot of mastication.

In the event of your firing off No. 3, your host glances towards the

hostess and says--

"Oo, then" (pronounced "oh-oh").

To your startled senses comes the immediate suggestion, "Is the giver of

the feast demented, or is he merely rude?"

Just as you are meditating an excuse for leaving the table and the

house, your hostess saves the situation by saying sweetly, "Do let me

give you a little oo," playfully tapping with a carvingknife the

breastbone of a winged creature recumbent on a dish in front of her.

It gradually dawns upon you that you are among strange birds quite

outside the pale of the English Game Laws, and that you will have to

take a sporting chance.

While you are still in the act of wavering the son of the house says,

"Try a little huia."

If you like the look of this specimen of Polynesian poultry you signify

your acceptance in the customary manner; otherwise, in parliamentary

phraseology, "The Oos have it."

For my own part I fancy that, unless or until some of these unusual

fowls are extinct, I shall not visit Polynesia, but rest content with

Purley. Our dinner-parties may be dull, but at least one knows one's way

about among the dishes.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Fed-up Owner_ (_to holiday Artist_). "CHARMING, MY DEAR

YOUNG LADY--CHARMING--WITH ONE IMPORTANT OMISSION. YOU'VE FORGOTTEN TO

PUT IN THE NOTICE ON THE TREE."]

* * * * *

Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, 1920-10-06 · 第 17 / 55 题