Mary Poppins in the Park

  "But how did I get here?" Michael enquired. He was feeling more and more pleased with himself. Think of it—visiting a star! That didn't happen to everyone.

  "You wished," replied the King calmly.

  "Did I?" He couldn't remember it.

  "Of course you did!" the King retorted.

  "Last night!" the Queen reminded him.

  "Looking at the first star!" the courtiers added firmly.

  "Which happened," said the King, "to be ours. Read the Report, Lord Chamberlain!"

  An elderly cat, in spectacles and a long gold wig, stepped forward with an enormous book.

  "Last night," he read out pompously, "Michael Banks, of Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane—a little house on the planet Earth—gave expression to three wishes."

  "Three?" cried Michael. "I never did!"

  "Shush!" warned the King. "Don't interrupt."

  "Wish Number One," the Lord Chamberlain read, "was that he could have some luck!"

  A memory stirred in Michael's mind. He saw himself on the window-seat, gazing up at the sky.

  "Oh, now I remember!" he agreed. "But it wasn't very important."

  "All wishes are important!" The Lord Chamberlain looked at him severely.

  "Well—and what happened?" the King enquired. "I presume the wish came true?"

  Michael reflected. It had been a most unusual day, full of all kinds of luck.

  "Yes, it did!" he admitted cheerfully.

  "In what way?" asked the King. "Do tell us!"

  "Well," began Michael, "I scraped the cake-bowl——"

  An elderly cat stepped forward

  "Scraped the cake-bowl?" the cats repeated. They stared as though he were out of his wits.

  "Fancy!" the three Princesses purred.

  The King wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Some people have strange ideas of luck! But do continue, please!"

  Michael straightened his shoulders proudly. "And then—because it was hot, you know—the Admiral let me borrow this hat!" What would they say to that? he wondered. They would surely be green with envy.

  But the cats merely flicked their tails and silently gazed at the skull-and-crossbones.

  "Well, everyone to his own taste," said the King after a pause. "The question is—is it comfortable?"

  "Er—not exactly," Michael admitted. For the hat did not fit him anywhere. "It's rather heavy," he added.

  "H'm!" the King murmured. "Well, please go on!"

  "Then Daddy gave me a shilling this morning. But I lost it in the grass."

  "How much use is a lost shilling?" The way the King put the question, it sounded like a conundrum.

  Michael wished he had been more careful.

  "Not much," he said. Then he brightened up.

  "Oh—and Aunt Flossie sent me a bar of chocolate."

  He felt for it in his trouser pocket and realised, as he fished it out, that he must have been sitting on it. For now it was only a flattened mass with bits of fluff all over it and a nail embedded among the nuts.

  The cats eyed the object fastidiously.

  "If you ask me," said the King, looking squeamish, "I much prefer a bat to that!"

  Michael also stared at the chocolate. How quickly all his luck had vanished! There was nothing left to show for it.

  "Read on, Lord Chamberlain!" ordered the King.

  The old cat gave his wig a pat.

  "The second wish was"—he turned the page—"that the others would leave him alone."

  "It wasn't!" cried Michael uncomfortably.

  But he saw himself, even as he spoke, pushing the Twins away.

  "Well," he said lamely, "perhaps it was. But I didn't really mean it!"

  The King straightened up on his golden cushion.

  "You made a wish that you didn't mean? Wasn't that rather dangerous?"

  "And did they leave you alone?" asked the Queen. Her eyes were very inquisitive.

  Michael considered. Now that he came to think of it, in spite of his luck, the day had been lonely. Jane had played her own games. The Twins had hardly been near him. And Mary Poppins, although she had treated him most politely, had certainly left him alone.

  "Yes," he admitted unwillingly.

  "Of course they did!" the King declared. "If you wish on the first star it always comes true, especially"—he twirled his whiskers—"if it happens to be ours. Well, what about the third wish?"

  The Lord Chamberlain adjusted his glasses.

  "He wished to be miles from everybody and somewhere where he could have all the fun."

  "But that was only a sort of joke! I didn't even realise I was looking at a star. And I never thought of it coming true."

  "Exactly so! You never thought! That's what all of them say." The King regarded him quizzically.

  "All?" echoed Michael. "Who else said it?"

  "Dear me!" The King gave a dainty yawn. "You don't think you're the only child who has wished to be miles away! I assure you, it's quite a common request. And one—when it's wished on our star—that we find very useful. Very useful indeed!" he repeated. "Malkin!" He waved to a courtier. "Be good enough to draw the curtain!"

  A young cat, whom Michael recognised as the one that had accompanied him from the Park, sprang to the back of the hall.

  The golden curtain swung aside, disclosing the palace kitchens.

  "Now, come along!" cried Malkin sternly. "Hurry up, all! No dawdling!"

  "Yes, Malkin!"

  "No, Malkin!"

  "Coming, Malkin!"

  A chorus of treble voices answered. And Michael saw, to his surprise, that the kitchen was full of children.

  There were boys and girls of every size, all of them working frantically at different domestic tasks.

  Some were washing up golden plates, others were shining the cats' gold collars. One boy was skinning mice, another was boning bats, and two more were down on their knees busily scrubbing the floor. Two little girls in party dresses were sweeping up fish-bones and sardine tins and putting them into a golden dustbin. Another was sitting under a table winding a skein of golden wool. They all looked very forlorn and harassed, and the child beneath the table was weeping.

  The Lord Chamberlain looked at her and gave an impatient growl.

  "Be quick with that wool, now, Arabella! The Princesses want to play cat's-cradle!"

  The Queen stretched out her hind leg to a boy in a sailor suit.

  "Come, Robert," she said in a fretful voice. "It's time to polish my claws."

  "I'm hungry!" whined the eldest Princess.

  "Matilda! Matilda!" Malkin thundered. "A haddock for Princess Tiger-Lily! And Princess Marigold's sugared milk! And a rat for the Princess Crocus!"

  A girl in plaits and a pinafore appeared with three golden bowls. The Princesses nibbled a morsel each and tossed the rest to the floor. And several children ran in and began to sweep up the scraps.

  The King glanced slyly across at Michael and smiled at his astonishment.

  "Our servants are very well trained, don't you think? Malkin insists on them toeing the line. They keep the palace like a new pin. And they cost us practically nothing."

  "But——" began Michael in a very small voice. "Do the children do all the work?"

  "Who else?" said the King, with the lift of an eyebrow. "You could hardly expect a cat to do it! Cats have other and better occupations. A cat in the kitchen—what an idea! Our duty is to be wise and handsome—isn't that enough?"

  Michael's face was full of pity as he gazed at the luckless children.

  "But how did they get here?" he wanted to know.

  "Exactly as you did," the King replied. "They wished they were miles from everywhere. So here they are, you see."

  "But that wasn't what they really wanted!"

  "I'm afraid that's no affair of ours. All we can do is to grant their wishes. I'll introduce you in a moment. They're always glad to see a new face. And so are we, for that matter." The King's face wore an expressive smile. "Many hands make light w
ork, you know!"

  "But I'm not going to work!" cried Michael. "That wasn't what I wished for."

  "Ah! Then you should have been more careful. Wishes are tricky things. You must ask for exactly what you want or you never know where they will land you. Well, never mind. You'll soon settle down."

  "Settle down?" echoed Michael uneasily.

  "Certainly. Just as the others have done. Malkin will show you your duties presently, when you've had the rest of your wish. We mustn't be forgetting that. There are still the riddles, you know."

  "Riddles? I never mentioned riddles!" Michael was beginning to wonder if he were really enjoying this adventure.

  "Didn't you wish to have all the fun? Well, what is more fun than a riddle? Especially," purred the King, "to a cat! Tell him the rules, Lord Chamberlain!"

  The old cat peered over his glasses.

  "It has always been our custom here, when any child wishes for all the fun, to let him have three guesses. If he answers them all—correctly, of course—he wins a third of the Cats' kingdom and the hand of one of the Princesses in marriage."

  "And if he fails," the King added, "we find him some other occupation." He glanced significantly at the labouring children.

  "I need hardly add," he continued blandly, exchanging a smile with his three daughters, "that no one has guessed the riddles yet. Let the curtain be drawn for the—ahem!—time being. Silence in the hall, please! Lord Chamberlain, begin!"

  Immediately, the music ceased. The dancers stood on the tips of their paws and the hoops hung motionless in the air.

  Michael's spirits rose again. Now that the children were out of sight, he felt a good deal better. Besides, he loved a guessing game.

  The Lord Chamberlain opened his book and read:

  Round as a marble, blue as the sea,

  Unless I am brown or grey, maybe!

  Smile, and I shine my window-pane,

  Frown at me and down comes my rain.

  I see all things but nothing I hear,

  Sing me to sleep and I disappear.

  Michael frowned. The cats were all watching him as if he were a mouse.

  "A bit of a poser, I'm afraid!" The King leaned back on his cushion.

  "No, it isn't!" cried Michael suddenly. "I've got it! An Eye!"

  The cats glanced cornerwise at each other. The King's wide gaze grew narrower.

  "H'm," he murmured. "Not bad, not bad! Well, now for the second riddle."

  "A-hurrrrrum!" The Lord Chamberlain cleared his throat.

  Deep within me is a bird

  And in that bird another me,

  And in that me a bird again—

  Now, what am I, in letters three?

  "That's easy!" Michael gave a shout. "The answer's an Egg, of course!"

  Again the cats swivelled their eyes.

  "You are right," said the King unwillingly. He seemed to be only faintly pleased. "But I wonder"—he arched his dappled back—"I wonder what you will make of the third!"

  "Silence!" commanded the Lord Chamberlain, though there wasn't a sound in the hall.

  Elegant the jungle beast

  That lives in field and fold.

  He's like the sun when he is young

  And like the moon when old.

  He sees no clock, he hears no chime

  And yet he always knows the time.

  "This is more difficult," Michael murmured. "The third is always the worst. H'm, let me see—a jungle beast—he's elegant and he knows the time. Oh, dear, it's on the tip of my tongue. I've got it! Dandelion!"

  "He's guessed it!" cried the King, rising.

  And at once the cats all leapt to life. They surrounded Michael with fur and whiskers and arched themselves against him.

  "You are cleverer than I thought," said the King. "Almost as clever as a cat. Well, now I must go and divide the kingdom. And as to a bride—the Princess Crocus, it seems to me, would be the most suitable choice."

  "Oh, thank you," said Michael cheerfully—he was feeling quite himself again—"but I must be getting home now."

  "Home!" cried the King in astonishment.

  "Home?" the Queen echoed, raising her eyebrows.

  "Well, I have to be back for tea," explained Michael.

  "Tea?" repeated the courtiers, gaping.

  "Fancy!" the three Princesses tittered.

  "Are you so certain you still have a home?" said the King in a curious voice.

  "Of course I am," said Michael, staring. "What could have happened to it? From the Park to—er—here, it was just a jump. And it only took me a minute."

  "You've forgotten, I think," said the King smoothly, "that our minutes last for two hundred years. And as you've been here at least half an hour——"

  "Two hundred?" Michael's cheek paled. So it hadn't been a joke after all!

  "It stands to reason," the King continued, "that many changes must have occurred since you were on the Earth. Number Seventeen Applebush Avenue——"

  "Cherry Tree Lane," the Lord Chamberlain muttered.

  "Well, whatever its name, you may be sure it isn't the same as it was. I dare say it's overgrown with brambles——"

  "Briars!" added the Queen, purring.

  "Nettles," suggested the courtiers.

  "Blackberries," murmured the three Princesses.

  "Oh, I'm sure it isn't!" Michael gulped. He was feeling such a longing for home that the thought of it made him choke.

  "However," the King went blandly on. "If you're certain you can find your way—I'm afraid we can't spare Malkin again—by all means set out!" He waved his paw towards the door.

  Michael ran to the entrance. "Of course I'm certain!" he cried stoutly. But his courage ebbed as he looked out.

  There were the shining steps of the palace, but below them, as far as he could see, there was nothing but wreathing mist. What if he jumped? he thought to himself. And if he jumped, where would he land?

  He bit his lip and turned back to the hall. The cats were softly creeping towards him, gazing at him mockingly from black-and-yellow eyes.

  "You see!" said the King of the Cats, smiling—and not a kindly smile either. "In spite of being so clever at guessing, you do not know the way back! You wished to be miles from everywhere, but you foolishly neglected to add that you would also like to return home. Well! Well! Everyone makes mistakes at times—unless, of course, they are cats! And think how fortunate you are! No kitchen work—you have solved the riddles. Plenty of rats and bats and spiders. And you can settle down with the Princess Crocus and live happily ever after."

  "But I don't want to marry the Princess Crocus! I only want to go home!"

  A low growl came from every throat. Every whisker bristled.

  "You ... don't ... want ... to ... marry ... the ... Princess ... Crocus?"

  Word by word the King came nearer, growing larger at every step.

  "No I don't!" declared Michael. "She's only a cat!"

  "Only a cat!" the cats squealed, swelling and rearing with rage.

  Black-and-yellow shapes swarmed round him. "Only a cat!" They spat out the words.

  "Oh, what shall I do?" He backed away, shielding his eyes from their gaze.

  "You wissshed!" they hissed at him, padding closer. "You sssought our ssstar! You mussst take the consssequencesss!"

  "Oh, where shall I go?" cried Michael wildly.

  "You will ssstay bessside usss," the King whispered with a terrible cat-like softness. "You guesssed our riddlesss, you ssstole our sssecretsss. Do you think we would let you go?"

  A wall of cats was all about him. He flung out an arm to thrust it away. But their arching backs were too much for him. His hand dropped limply to his side and fell upon the rigid shape of Mary Poppins' whistle.

  With a cry, he snatched it from his pocket and blew it with all his might.

  A shrill peal sounded through the Hall.

  "Sssilence him! Ssseize him! He mussstn't esss-cape!" The furious cats pressed closer.

  In d
esperation he blew again.

  A whining caterwaul answered the blast as a wave of cats rolled forward.

  He felt himself enveloped in fur—fur in his nose, fur in his eyes. Oh, which of them had leapt at him—or was it all the cats together? With their screeches echoing in his ears, he felt himself borne upwards. A fur-covered arm, or perhaps a leg, was clasped about his waist. And his face was crushed to a furry something—a breast or a back, he could not tell.

  Wind was blowing everywhere, sweeping him wildly on, with cat to the right of him, cat to the left of him, cat above him and cat below. He was wrapped in a cocoon of cats and the long furry arm that held him was as strong as an iron band.

  With an effort he wrenched his head sideways and blew the whistle so violently that his hat fell off his head.

  The strong arm drew him closer still.

  "Whee—ee!" cried the wind, with a hollowvoice.

  And now it seemed that he and the cats were falling through the air. Down, down, down in a furry mass. Oh, where were they taking him?

  Again and again he blew the whistle, struggling madly against the fur and kicking in all directions.

  "Oo's making all that dreadful rumpus? Mind what you're doin'! You knocked off me cap!"

  A wonderfully familiar voice sounded in Michael's ears.

  Cautiously he opened an eye and saw that he was drifting down past the top of a chestnut tree.

  The next minute his feet touched the dewy grass of the Park and there, on the lawn, was the Park Keeper, looking as though he had seen a ghost.

  "Now, now! Wot's all this. Wot 'ave you two been up to?"

  You two! The words had a cheerful ring. He was

  The next minute his feet touched the dewy grass

  held, it seemed, by only one cat and not, after all, by the whole tribe. Was it the Lord Chamberlain? Or, perhaps, the Princess Crocus!

  Michael glanced from the Park Keeper to the furry arm around him. It ended, to his great surprise, not in a paw—but a hand. And on the hand was a neat glove—black, not tortoiseshell.

  He turned his head enquiringly and his cheek encountered a bone button that was nestling in the fur. Surely he knew that piece of bone! Oh, was it possible——? Could it be——?