First published 1943

The Library of Congress has cataloged an earlier edition as follows:

Travers, P. L., 1899–1996.

Mary Poppins opens the door/P. L. Travers.

p. cm.

Summary: Mary Poppins returns to the Banks family in a

rocket and involves the Banks children in more magical adventures,

including those with Peppermint Horses, the Marble Boy,

and the Cat That Looked at the King.

[1. Fantasy.] I. Shepard, Mary, 1909– ill. II. Sims, Agnes. III. Title.

PZ7.T689Mat10 1997

[Fic] 75-30697

ISBN-13: 978-0-15-201722-4 ISBN-10: 0-15-201722-4

Text set in Old Style 7

Display type hand-lettered by Georgia Deaver

Designed by April Ward

Printed in the United States of America

K M N L

NOTE

The Fifth of November is Guy Fawkes' Day in England. In peacetime it is celebrated with bonfires on the greens, fireworks in the parks and the carrying of "guys" through the streets. "Guys" are stuffed, straw figures of unpopular persons; and after they have been shown to everybody they are burnt in the bonfires amid great acclamation. The children black their faces and put on comical clothes, and go about begging for a Penny for the Guy. Only the very meanest people refuse to give pennies and these are always visited by Extreme Bad Luck.

The Original Guy Fawkes was one of the men who took part in the Gunpowder Plot. This was a conspiracy for blowing up King James I and the Houses of Parliament on November 5 th, 1605. The plot was discovered, however, before any damage was done. The only result was that King James and his Parliament went on living but Guy Fawkes, poor man, did not. He was executed with the other conspirators. Nevertheless, it is Guy Fawkes who is remembered today and King James who is forgotten. For since that time, the Fifth of November in England, like the Fourth of July in America, has been devoted to Fireworks. From 1605 till 1939 every village green in the shires had a bonfire on Guy Fawkes' Day. In the village where I live, in Sussex, we made our bonfire in the Vicarage paddock and every year, as soon as it was lit, the Vicar's cow would begin to dance. She danced while the flames roared up to the sky, she danced till the ashes were black and cold. And the next morning — it was always the same — the Vicar would have no milk for his breakfast. It is strange to think of a simple cow rejoicing so heartily at the saving of Parliament so many years ago.

Since 1939, however, there have been no bonfires on the village greens. No fireworks gleam in the blackened parks and the streets are dark and silent. But this darkness will not last forever. There will some day come a Fifth of November — or another date, it doesn't matter — when fires will burn in a chain of brightness from Land's End to John O'Groats. The children will dance and leap about them as they did in the times before. They will take each other by the hand and watch the rockets breaking, and afterwards they will go home singing to the houses full of light….

P. L. T. (1943)

Inside the house, Mr. Banks was marching up and down, kicking the hall furniture.

"I've had about all I can stand!" he shouted, waving his arms wildly.

"You keep on saying that," Mrs. Banks cried. "But you won't tell me what's the matter." She looked at Mr. Banks anxiously.

"Everything's the matter!" he roared. "Look at this!" He waggled his right foot at her. "And this!" he went on, as he waggled his left.

Mrs. Banks peered closely at the feet. She was rather short-sighted and the hall was misty.

"I — er — don't see anything wrong," she began timidly.

"Of course you don't!" he said, sarcastically. "It's only imagination, of course, that makes me think Robertson Ay has given me one black shoe and one brown!" And again he waggled his feet.

"Oh!" said Mrs. Banks hurriedly. For now she saw clearly what the trouble was.

"You may well say 'Oh!' So will Robertson Ay when I give him the sack tonight."

"It's not his fault, Daddy!" cried Jane, from the stairs. "He couldn't see — because of the fog. Besides, he's not strong."

"He's strong enough to make my life a misery!" said Mr. Banks angrily.

"He needs rest, Daddy!" Michael reminded him, hurrying down after Jane.

"He'll get it!" promised Mr. Banks, as he snatched up his bag. "When I think of the things I could have done if I hadn't gone and got married! Lived alone in a Cave, perhaps. Or I might have gone Round the World."

"And what would we have done, then?" asked Michael.

"You would have had to fend for yourselves. And serve you right! Where's my overcoat?"

"You have it on, George," said Mrs. Banks, meekly.

"Yes!" he retorted. "And only one button! But anything's good enough for me! I'm only the man who Pays the Bills. I shall not be home for dinner."

A wail of protest went up from the children.

"But it's Guy Fawkes' Day," wheedled Mrs. Banks. "And you so good at letting off rockets."

"No rockets for me!" cried Mr. Banks. "Nothing but trouble from morning till night!" He shook Mrs. Banks' hand from his arm and dashed out of the house.

"Shake, sir!" said the Sweep in a friendly voice as Mr. Banks knocked into him, "It's lucky, you know, to shake hands with a Sweep."

"Away, away!" said Mr. Banks wildly. "This is not my lucky day!"

The Sweep looked after him for a moment. Then he smiled to himself and rang the door-bell….

Dance over, my Lady Leigh!"

sang Michael.

"Oranges and Lemons,

Once upon a time, there lived a King who thought he knew practically everything. I couldn't even begin to tell you the things he thought he knew. His head was as full of facts and figures as a pomegranate of pips. And this had the effect of making the King extremely absent-minded. You will hardly believe me when I say that he even forgot his own name, which was Cole. The Prime Minister, however, had an excellent memory, and reminded him of it from time to time.

Now, this King's favourite pursuit was thinking. He thought all night and he thought in the morning. He thought at mealtimes, he thought in his bath. He never noticed what was happening in front of his nose because, of course, he was always thinking about something else.

And the things he thought about were not, as you might imagine, the welfare of his people and how to make them happy. Not at all. His mind was busy with other questions. The number of baboons in India, for instance; and whether the North Pole was as long as the South; and if pigs could be taught to sing.

He not only worried about these things himself. He forced everybody else to worry about them, too. All except the Prime Minister, who was not at all a thinking kind of person but an old man who liked to sit in the sun and do absolutely nothing. But he was careful not to let this be known for fear the King would cut off his head.

The King lived in a palace made entirely of crystal. In the early days of his reign it had shone so brightly that passers-by would hide their eyes, for fear of being dazzled. But gradually the crystal grew duller and the dust of the seasons covered its brightness. Nobody could be spared to polish it for everyone was far too busy helping the King think his thoughts. At any moment they might be ordered to leave their work and hurry away on the King's business. To China, perhaps, to count the silkworms. Or to find out if the Solomon Islands were ruled by the Queen of Sheba. When they came back with their lists of facts, the King and the courtiers would write them down in large books bound in leather. And if anyone returned without an answer, his head was at once cut off.

The only person in the palace who had nothing to do was the Queen. All day long she sat on her golden throne, twisting the necklace of blue-and-green flowers that was clasped about her throat. Sometimes she would start up with a cry and pull her ermine robes about her. For the palace, as it grew more and more dirty, became infested with mice. And mice, as anyone will tell you, are the things no Queen can stand.

"O-o-o-h!" she would say, with a little gasp, as she leapt on the seat of the throne.

And each time she cried out the King would frown.

"Silence please!" he would say, in a fractious voice, for the least little noise disturbed his thinking. Then the mice would scatter for a little while and no sound would be heard in the room. Except for the scratching of goose-quill pens as the King and the courtiers added new facts to the ones in the leather books.

The Queen never gave orders, not even to her Ladies-of-the-Bedchamber. For as likely as not the King would countermand them.

"Mend the Queen's petticoat?" he would say crossly. "What petticoat? Why waste time talking about petticoats? Take a pen and write out these facts about the Phoenix!"

What a dreadful state of affairs, you will say! And, indeed, I wouldn't blame you. But you must not think it was always like that. The Queen, sitting lonely upon her throne, would often remind herself of the days when she first had married the King. How tall and handsome he had been, with his strong white neck and ruddy cheeks, and locks of hair folded round his head like the leaves of camellia flowers.

"Ah!" she would sigh, remembering back. How he had fed her with honey-cakes and fingers of buttered bread from his plate. How his face had been so full of love that her heart would turn over in her breast and force her to look away, for sheer joy.

But at last there came a fateful evening.

"Your eyes are brighter than stars," he said, as he glanced from her face to the shining sky. But instead of turning to her again as usual, he continued to gaze upwards.

"I wonder," he said dreamily, "just how many stars there are! I think I shall count them. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—" And he went on counting till the Queen fell asleep beside him.

"One thousand, two hundred and forty-nine—" he was saying as she woke up.

And after that he would not be satisfied till he got the courtiers out of their beds and set them to counting stars. And as no two answers came out alike the King was very angry.

That was how it all began.

The next day, the King exclaimed, "Your cheeks, my Darling, are like two roses!"

And the Queen was very happy till he added, "But why roses? Why not cabbages? Why are cheeks pink and cabbages green? And vice versa? This is a very serious question."

The third day he told her that her teeth were like pearls. But before she even had time to smile, he went on—

"And what if they are? Everybody has, after all, a certain number of teeth, and most of them are pearly. Pearls themselves, however, are very rare. It is more important to think about them."

So he summoned the best divers in the kingdom and sent them down under the sea.

And from that day onwards he was always thinking. He was only concerned with gaining knowledge and he never even looked at the Queen. Indeed, if he had glanced in her direction, he would probably not have seen her, for he worked so hard at his books and papers that he soon became very short-sighted. His round red face grew thin and wrinkled, and his hair turned grey at an early age. He ate practically nothing — except for a cheese-and-onion sandwich whenever the old Prime Minister told him that dinner was on the table.

Well! You can imagine how lonely the Queen was. Sometimes the Prime Minister would shuffle cautiously to the throne and pat her hand kindly. Sometimes the little page who filled the inkwells would raise his eyes and smile at her from behind the King's back. But neither the old man nor the boy could spare much time to amuse the Queen, for fear of losing their heads.

You must not think the King meant to be unkind. Indeed, it seemed to him that his subjects were luckier than most, for hadn't they a King who knew practically everything? But while he was busy gathering knowledge his people grew poorer and poorer. Houses fell into ruin and fields went untilled, because the King needed all the men to help him in his thinking.

At last there came a day when the King and the courtiers were busy, as usual, at their desks in the Council Chamber. The Queen sat listening to the scratching of pens and the squeaking of mice in the wainscot. And presently, as she sat so still, a bold mouse streaked across the floor and began to wash its whiskers right under the throne. The Queen gave a little frightened gasp. But she quickly clapped her hand to her mouth for fear of disturbing the King. Then she pulled her ermine train about her and sat trembling within it. And at that moment, over the edge of her hand, her startled eyes glanced across the room and saw on the threshold — a cat.

A small cat it was, as fluffy as a dandelion, and white as sugar from tail to whisker. It walked with a lazy swinging step as though it had nothing at all to do and all time to do it in. A pair of green eyes glowed in its head as it sauntered through the door.

For a moment it paused at the carpet's edge, glancing curiously at the King and the courtiers as they bent above their books. Then the green eyes turned towards the Queen. The Cat gave a start and its body stiffened. Up went its back like the hump of a camel. Its whiskers stretched into threads of steel. Then it leapt across the Council Chamber and dived beneath the throne. There was a hoarse cat-cry. And a smothered squeak. And the mouse was there no longer.

"Silence, please! Don't make such extraordinary noises, my dear! They interrupt my thoughts!" said the King fractiously.

"It wasn't me," said the Queen timidly. "It was a Cat."

"Cats?" said the King absent-mindedly, without even lifting his head. "Cats are four-footed creatures covered with fur. They eat mice, fish, liver and birds and communicate either in a purr or a caterwaul. They keep themselves to themselves and are popularly supposed to possess nine lives. For further information on Cats, see Page Two, Volume Seven, Shelf D in Library Number Five to the left as you go in the door. Here! Hi! What's all this—?"

With a start the King looked up from his page. For the Cat was sitting on the desk before him.

"Kindly be careful!" the King said crossly. "You're right on my latest facts. They deal with a very important question. Do turkeys really come from Tlirkey and if not, why? Well, what do you want? Speak up! Don't mumble."

"I want to have a look at you," the Cat said calmly.

"Oho! You do, do you? Well, a Cat may look at a King, they say! And I've no objection. Go ahead!"

The King leaned backwards in his chair and turned his face from left to right so the Cat could see both sides.

The Cat gazed thoughtfully at the King.

There was a long pause.

The Cat was sitting on the desk before him

"Well?" said the King, with a tolerant smile. "And what do you think of me, may I ask?"

"Not much," said the Cat casually, licking its right front paw.

"What?" cried the King. "Not much, indeed! My poor ignorant animal, you are evidently not aware which King you are looking at!"

"All kings are pretty much alike," said the Cat.

"Nothing of the kind," the King said angrily. "I defy you to name a single king that knows as much as I do. Why, professors come from the ends of the earth to consult with me for half an hour. My court is composed of the Very Best People. Jack-the-Giant-Killer digs my garden. My flocks are tended by no less a person than Bo-Peep. And all my pies contain Four-and-Twenty Blackbirds. Not much to look at, forsooth! And who are you, I'd like to know, to speak to a King like that!"

"Oh, just a cat," the Cat replied. "Four legs and a tail and a couple of whiskers."

"I can see that for myself!" snapped the King. "It doesn't matter to me what you look like. What I care about is, how much do you know?"

"Oh, everything," the Cat said calmly, as it licked the tip of its tail.

"What!" The King burst out with an angry splutter. "Well, of all the vain, conceited creatures! I've a jolly good mind to chop off your head."

"So you shall," said the Cat. "But all in good time."

"Everything! Why, you preposterous animal! There's no one alive — not even myself — who could be as wise as that!"

"With the single exception of cats," said the Cat. "All cats, I assure you, know everything!"

"Very well," growled the King. "But you've got to prove it. If you're so clever I shall ask you three questions. And then we shall see what we'll see."

He smiled a supercilious smile. If the wretched Cat insisted on boasting, it would have to take the consequences!

"Now," he said, leaning back in his chair and putting his fingers together. "My first question is—"

"One moment, please!" the Cat said calmly. "I cannot undertake to answer your questions until we have settled the terms. No cat would do anything so foolish. I am prepared to make a bargain with you. And these are my conditions. It is agreed between us that you shall ask me three questions. After that, it is only fair that I should question you. And whichever one of us wins the contest shall have command of your kingdom."

The courtiers dropped their pens in surprise. The King's eyes goggled with astonishment.

But he swallowed the words that sprang to his mouth and gave a disdainful laugh.

"Very well," he said haughtily. "It's a great waste of time and you, not I, will be the one to regret it. But I accept your bargain."

"Then take off your crown," commanded the Cat, "and lay it on the table between us."

The King tore the crown from his tattered head and the jewels flashed in the sunlight.

"Let's get this nonsense over and done with! I have to go on with my work," he said crossly. "Are you ready? Well, here is my first question. If you laid them carefully, end to end, how many six-foot men would it take to go right round the Equator?"

"That's easy," the Cat replied, with a smile. "You simply divide the length by six."

"Aha!" cried the King with a crafty look. "That's all very well — but what is the length?"

"Any length you like," the Cat said airily. "It doesn't really exist, you know. The Equator is purely an imaginary line."

The King's face darkened with disapproval.

"Well," he said sulkily, "tell me this. What is the difference between an Elephant and a Railway Porter?"

"No difference at all," said the Cat at once. "Because they both carry trunks."

"But — but — but — but—" the King protested. "These are not the answers I expected. You really must try to be more serious."

"I can't help what you expected," said the Cat. "These are the proper replies to your questions, as any cat will tell you."

The King made an angry click with his tongue.

"This nonsense is getting beyond a joke! It's a farce! It's nothing but twiddle-twaddle. Well, here is my third question — ijvou can answer it."

You could see by the smile on the King's face that this time he thought he had the Cat exactly where he wanted it.

He held up a pompous hand and began.

"If a dozen men, working eight hours a day, had to dig a hole ten-and-a-half miles deep — how long would it be, including Sundays, before they put down their spades?"

The King's eyes shone with a cunning sparkle. He gazed at the Cat with a look of triumph. But the Cat had its answer ready.

"Two seconds," it said quickly, with a little flick of its tail.

"Two seconds! Are you mad? The answer's in years!" The King rubbed his hands together with glee at the thought of the Cat's mistake.

"I repeat," said the Cat. "It would take them two seconds. To dig such a hole would be utterly foolish. 'Ten miles deep?' they would say. 'Why, what on earth for?'"

"That isn't the point," the King said angrily.

"But every question must have a point. A point is exactly what questions are for. And now," said the Cat, "it's my turn, I believe!"

The King gave an angry shrug of his shoulders.

"Well, be quick. You've wasted enough of my time!"

"My questions are short and very simple," the Cat assured him. "A cat could solve them in a flick of the whisker. Let us hope that a King will be equally clever. Now, here is my first. How high is the sky?"

The King gave a grunt of satisfaction. This was exactly the kind of question he liked, and he smiled a knowing smile.

"Well, of course," he began, "it all depends. If you measured it from a level plain it would be one height. From the top of a mountain another. And after taking this into account, we should have to determine the latitude and longitude, the amplitude, magnitude and multitude, not forgetting the atmospherics, mathematics, acrobatics and hysterics; and the general depressions, expressions, impressions and confessions, together with—"

"Excuse me," interrupted the Cat. "But that is not the answer. TVy again, please. How high is the sky?"

The King's eyes popped with angry astonishment. Nobody had ever dared to interrupt him before.

"The sky," he bellowed, "is — er — it's—. Well, of course I can't tell you in so many yards. Neither could anyone else, I assure you. It is probably—"

"I want an exact reply," said the Cat. He glanced from the King to the gaping courtiers. "Has anyone here, in this hall of learning, the answer to my question?"

Nervously glancing at the King, the Prime Minister raised a trembling hand.

"I have always supposed," he murmured shyly, "that the sky was just a little higher than the Eagle flies. I'm an old man, of course, and I'm probably wrong—"

The Cat clapped its sugar-white paws together.

"No! No! You are right," it protested gently.

The King gave a sullen snort of rage.

"Tomfoolery! Nonsensical bosh!"

The Cat held up its paw for silence. "Will you answer my second question, please! Where is the sweetest milk to be found?"

Immediately the King's face cleared, and took on a confident smirk.

"As simple as A.B.C.," he said loftily. "The answer, of course, is Sardinia. For there the cows live on honey and roses and their milk is as sweet as Golden Syrup. Or perhaps I should say the Elegant Islands, where they feed upon nothing but sugar cane. Or Greece, where they browse in the Candytuft. Now, taking into consideration—"

"I can take nothing into consideration," said the Cat, "except the fact that you have not answered my question. Where is the sweetest milk, O King?"

"I know!" cried the little Page, pausing for a moment above a half-filled inkwell. "In a saucer by the fire."

The Cat gave the child an approving nod and yawned in the face of the King.

"I thought you were so clever!" it said slyly. "You may indeed be the wisest of Kings — but somebody else has answered my question. Do not frown, however—" for the King was glowering at the Page—"you still have one more chance to win. Here is my third question. What is the strongest thing in the world?"

The King's eyes glittered. This time he was certain he had the right answer.

"The Tiger," he said thoughtfully, "is a very strong thing. So also are the Horse and the Lion. Then, of course, there are the tides of the sea. And the granite veins of the mountains. Volcanoes, too, have a mighty strength and the snowy caps of ice at the Poles. Or, again, it might be the Wall of China—"

"Or again it might not!" the Cat broke in. "Can anyone tell me the strongest thing?"

It glanced once more round the Council Chamber. And this time it was the Queen who spoke.

"I think," she said gently, "it must be Patience. For, in the long run, it is Patience that overcomes all things."

The green eyes dwelt gravely upon her for a moment.

"It is indeed," the Cat agreed quietly. And turning, it laid a paw on the crown.

"Oh, wisest of monarchs!" cried the Cat. "You are, without doubt, a mighty scholar and I am a common-or-garden cat. But I have answered all three of your questions and you have not answered one of mine. The result of the contest is clear, I think. The crown belongs to me."

The King gave a short contemptuous laugh.

"Don't be so silly! What would you do with it? You can't make laws and rule the people. You don't even know how to read or write. TYirn over my kingdom to a Cat? I'm hanged if I will!"

The Cat smiled broadly.

"I see that your wisdom does not include a knowledge of fairy-tales. If it did, you would know that it is only necessary to cut off a cat's head to discover a Prince in disguise."

"Fairy-tales? Pooh! They're nothing to me. I'm thinking about my kingdom."

"Your kingdom," said the Cat, "if you'll forgive me mentioning it, is no longer your affair. All that need concern you now is quickly to cut off my head. The rest you may leave to me. Furthermore, since you apparently have no use for them, I shall take into my service this wise man, your Prime Minister, this understanding woman, your wife, and this sensible child, your page. Let them get their hats and come with me and together we four shall rule the kingdom."

"But what's going to happen to we?" cried the King. "Where shall I go? How shall I live?"

The Cat's eyes narrowed sternly.

"You should have thought of that before. Most people think twice before making a bargain with a Cat. Well, out with your sword now, learned man! And I trust the blade is sharp."

"Stop!" cried the Prime Minister, as he laid his hand on the hilt of the King's sword. Then he turned to the Cat and bowed respectfully.

"Sir," he said quietly, "listen to me! It is true that you have won the crown, in fair and equal contest. And it may be you are indeed a Prince. But I must decline your offer. I have served the King faithfully since the days when I was a page in his father's court. And whether he be crowned or uncrowned, head of a kingdom or a tramp on the lonely roads, I love him and he needs me. I will not go with you."

"Nor I," said the Queen, as she rose from her golden throne. "I have stood at the King's side since he was young and comely. I have waited for him in silence through long, lonely years. Whether he be wise or foolish, rich or without bread, I love him and I need him. I will not go with you."

"Nor I," said the little Page, as he corked up his bottle of ink. "This is the only home I have ever known. And the King is my king and I am sorry for him. Besides, I like filling up the inkwells. I will not go with you."

At that the Cat smiled a curious smile and its green eyes shone on the three who had refused him.

"What have you to say to this, O King?" said the Cat as it turned to the desk.

But no words came to answer the question. For the King was weeping.

"O wise man, why do you weep?" asked the Cat.

"Because I am ashamed," sobbed the King. "I boasted about how clever I was. I thought I knew everything — pretty nearly. And now I find that an old man and a woman and a little lad are all far wiser than I am. Do not try to comfort me!" he wept, as the Queen and the Prime Minister touched his hands. "I am not worth it. I know nothing at all. Not even who I am!"

He hid his face in the crook of his arm. "Oh, I know that I'm a King!" he cried. "I know my name and address, of course! But I do not know, after all these years, who I really, truly am!"

"Look at me and you will find out," said the Cat quietly.

"But I h-h-have looked at you!" sobbed the King into his handkerchief.

"Not really," the Cat insisted gently. "You have only glanced at me, now and again. A Cat may look at a King you say. But a King may also look at a Cat. If you did that, you would know who you are. Look in my eyes — and see!"

The King took his face out of the handkerchief and peered at the Cat through his tears. His eyes wandered over the calm white face and came at last to the Cat's green eyes. Within that shining, piercing gaze he saw his own reflection.

"Closer. Closer," the Cat commanded.

Obediently the King bent nearer.

And as he gazed at those fathomless eyes, a change came over the man within them. Slowly, his thin, pinched face grew fatter. The pale cheeks plumped into round red pouches and the wrinkles smoothed themselves out of his brow. Bright locks of brown curled upon his head; a brown beard sprang from his greying chin. The King gave a start of surprise and smiled. And a big broad rosy man smiled back from the mirroring eyes of the Cat.

"My Glorious Ghosts! That's me! he cried. "I know who I really am at last! Why, I'm not the cleverest man in the world!" He flung up his head with a gusty laugh. "Ho-ho! Ha-ha! I see it all now! I'm not a thinking person at all. I'm nothing but a Merry Old Soul!"

He waved his arms at the gaping courtiers. "Here, you! Take away those pens and papers. Tear up the notebooks! Bury the desks! And if anyone mentions a fact to me I shall cut off his head myself!"

He gave another uproarious laugh and embraced the Prime Minister so tightly that he nearly killed the old man.

"Forgive me, my faithful friend!" he cried. "And bring me my Pipe and a Bowl of Punch and call in my Fiddlers Three!"

"And you, my Joy, my Treasure, my Dove—" he turned to the Queen with outstretched arms. "Oh, give me your hand again, dear heart, and I'll never let it go!"

Happy tears crept down the cheeks of the Queen, and the King touched them gently away. "I don't need stars in the sky," he whispered, "I have them here, in your eyes."

"Forgive me if I interrupt. But what about me?" exclaimed the Cat.

"Well, you've got the kingdom. You've got the crown! What more do you want?" the King demanded.

"Pooh!" said the Cat. "They're no use to me! Accept them, I pray, as a friendly gift. But as no cat ever gives something for nothing, I demand in return two small requests—"

"Oh, anything. Anything at all," said the King with a lordly gesture.

"I should like, every now and then," said the Cat, "to come to the Palace and see—"

"Me? Why, of course! You're always welcome!" The King broke in with a satisfied smile.

"To see the Queen," the Cat continued, ignoring the King's remark.

"Oh — the Queen! All right. Whenever you like. You can help us to keep down the mice."

"My second request," the Cat went on, "is the little chain of blue-and-green flowers that the Queen wears round her neck."

"Take it — and welcome!" the King said airily. "It was only a cheap one, anyway."

Slowly the Queen put up her hands and unfastened the clasp at her throat. She twined the necklace about the Cat, looping it round the furry body and over and under the tail. Then for a long moment she looked deep into the Cat's green eyes and the Cat looked into hers. And in that look lay all the secrets that Queens and cats carry in their hearts and never tell to anyone.

"My At Home days are every Second Friday," said the Queen, as she smiled at the Cat.

"I shall come," the Cat said nodding.

And having said that, he turned away and, without a glance at anyone else, sailed out of the Council Chamber. The blue-and-green necklace shone in his fur and his tail waved to and fro like a banner.

"By the way!" called the King, as the Cat departed. "Are you sure you're really a prince in disguise? Could I have safely cut off your head?"

The Cat turned about and regarded him gravely. Then it smiled its mocking smile.

"Nothing is certain in this world. Good-bye!" said the green-eyed Cat.

It sprang across the sunny threshold and down the Castle steps.

On the Palace lawn a red cow was admiring her reflection in an ornamental pond.

"Who are you?" she enquired, as the Cat passed by.

"I'm the Cat that Looked at a King," he replied.

"And I," she remarked with a toss of her head, "am the Cow that Jumped Over the Moon."

"Is that so?" said the Cat. "Whatever for?"

The Cow stared. She had never before been asked that question. And suddenly it occurred to her that there might be something else to do than jumping over moons.

"Now that you mention it," she said shyly, "I don't think I really know." And she trotted away across the lawn to think the matter over.

On the garden path a large grey bird was noisily flapping its wings.

"I'm the Goose that Lays the Golden Eggs!" it quacked haughtily.

"Indeed?" said the Cat, "and where are your goslings?"

"Goslings?" The Goose turned a trifle pale. "Well, now that you mention it, I have none. I always felt there was something missing." And she hurried off to make a nest and lay a common egg.

Plop! A green shape dropped in front of the Cat.

"I'm the Frog that Would a-Wooing Go," it said proudly.

"Do you tell me that, now?" the Cat said gravely. "Well, I trust you are happily married."

"Er — now that you mention it — not exactly. In fact — er — no!" confessed the Frog.

"Ah," said the Cat, with a shake of his head. "You should have obeyed your Mother!"

And before the Frog could do more than blink, the Cat had passed on. Away he went down the garden path, his whiskers twitching in the morning air, his blue-and-green necklace shining in the sun and his white tail waving like a banner behind him.

And as he disappeared through the Palace gates, all those who had seen him felt rich and happy.

The Cow and the Goose and the Frog were happy for now they could stop doing foolish things that had no rhyme or reason. The courtiers all were happy men, dancing by day to the Fiddlers' tunes and drinking at night from the flowing Bowl. The King himself was extremely happy because he no longer thought about anything. And the Queen was happy for a very good reason — because the King was happy. The little Page was happy, too. For now he could fill the inkwells with ink, and empty them back in the bottle again with no one to say him nay. But the happiest person in all the world was the old Prime Minister.

Do you know what he did?

He issued a proclamation.

The King commanded his subjects (it said) to put up Maypoles and dance around them; to get out Merry-go-rounds and ride them; to dance and feast and sing and grow fat and love one another dearly. And, furthermore, (it was clearly printed) if anyone disobeyed these laws, the King would immediately cut off his head.

And, having done that, the Prime Minister felt he had done enough. He spent the rest of his days doing nothing — just sitting in the sun in a rocking-chair, making himself a gentle breeze with a fan of cocoanut palm.

As for the Cat, he went his way through the ways of the world, decked in the Queen's bright necklace; and gazing at everything he saw with his green and piercing eyes.

He is still wandering, some folks say, for Near and Far are alike to him. And always as he goes, he watches out for one or another who will return his gaze. A king, it may be, or perhaps a shepherd, or a man going by through the city streets. If he comes upon anyone like that, he will stay with them for a little while. Not very long, but long enough. It takes no more than the tick of a second to look down deep in his deep green eyes and discover who they are….

He touched their cheeks with his marble fingers and crowed with joy as he danced around them. Then before they could utter a word of welcome he sped like a hare to the edge of the Lake and dabbled his hand in the water.

"So — this is what water feels like!" he cried. "So deep and so blue — and as light as air!" He leaned out over the sparkling Lake and the Dolphin gave a flick of its tail and slipped from his arms with a splash.

"Catch him! He'll sink!" cried Michael quickly.

But the Dolphin did nothing of the kind. It swam round the Lake and threshed the water; it dived and caught its tail in its mouth and leapt in the air and dived again. The performance was just like a turn in the circus. And as it sprang, dripping, to the arms of its master, the children could not help clapping.

"Was it good?" asked Neleus enviously. And the Dolphin grinned and nodded.

"Good!" cried a well-known voice behind them. "I call it extremely naughty!"

Mary Poppins was standing at the edge of the Lake and her eyes were as bright as her darning needle. Neleus sprang to his feet with a little cry and hung his head before her. He looked very young and small and shy as he waited for her to speak.

"Who said you might get down, may I ask?" Her face had its usual look of fury.

He shook his head guiltily.

"No one," he mumbled. "My feet jumped down by themselves, Mary Poppins."

"Then they'd better jump up again, spit-spot. You've no right to be off your pedestal."

He tilted back his marble head and the sunlight glanced off his small chipped nose.

"Oh, can't I stay down, Mary Poppins?" he pleaded. "Do let me stay for a little while and play with Jane and Michael! You don't know how lonely it is up there, with only the birds to talk to!" The earnest marble eyes entreated her. "Please, Mary Poppins!" he whispered softly, as he clasped his marble hands.

She gazed down thoughtfully for a moment, as though she were making up her mind. Then her eyes softened. A little smile skipped over her mouth and crinkled the edge of her cheek.

"Well, just for this afternoon!" she said. "This one time, Neleus! Never again!"

"Never — I promise, Mary Poppins!" He gave her an impish grin.

"Do you know Mary Poppins?" demanded Michael. "Where did you meet her?" he wanted to know. He was feeling a little jealous.

"Of course I do!" exclaimed Neleus laughing. "She's a very old friend of my Father's."

"What is your Father's name? Where is he?" Jane was almost bursting with curiosity.

"Far away. In the Isles of Greece. He is called the King of the Sea." As he spoke, the marble eyes of Neleus brimmed slowly up with sadness.

"What does he do?" demanded Michael. "Does he go to the City — like Daddy?"

"Oh, no! He never goes anywhere. He stands on a cliff above the sea, holding his trident and blowing his horn. Beside him my Mother sits, combing her hair. And Pelias, that's my younger brother, plays at their feet with a marble shell. And all day long the gulls fly past them, making black shadows on their marble bodies, and telling them news of the harbour. By day they watch the red-sailed ships going in and out of the bay. And at night they listen to the wine-dark waters that break on the shore below."

"How lovely!" cried Jane. "But why did you leave them?"

She was thinking that she would never have left Mr. and Mrs. Banks and Michael alone on the cliffs of Greece.

"I didn't want to," said the Marble Boy. "But what can a statue do against men? They were always coming to stare at us — peeking and prying and pinching our arms. They said we were made a long time ago by a very famous artist. And one day somebody said—'I'll take himV—and he pointed at me. So — I had to go."

He hid his eyes for a moment behind the Dolphin's fin.

"What happened then?" demanded Jane. "How did you get to our Park?"

"In a packing-case," said Neleus calmly, and laughed at their look of astonishment. "Oh, we always travel that way, you know. My family is very much in demand. People want us for Parks or Museums or Gardens. So they buy us and send us by Parcel Post. It never seems to occur to them that some of us might be — lonely." He choked a little on the word. Then he flung up his head with a lordly gesture. "But don't let's think about that!" he cried. "It's been much better since you two came. Oh, Jane and Michael, I know you so well — as if you were part of my family. I know about Michael's Kite and his Compass; and the Doulton Bowl, and Robertson Ay, and the things you have for supper. Didn't you ever notice me listening? And reading the fairy-tales over your shoulders?"

Jane and Michael shook their heads.

"I know Alice in Wonderland by heart," he went on. "And most of Robinson Crusoe. And Everything a Lady Should Know, which is Mary Poppins' favourite. But best of all are the coloured comics, especially the one called Lot-o'-Fun. What happened to Tiger Tim this week? Did he get away safely from Uncle Moppsy?"

"The new one comes out today," said Jane. "We'll all read it together!"

"Oh, dear! How happy I am!" cried Neleus. "The Elephant's Child, and a new Lot-o'-Fun, and my legs like the wings of a bird. I don't know when my Birthday is, but I think it must be today!" He hugged the Dolphin and the book in his arms and capered across the grass.

"Hi! Ting-aling-aling! Look where you're going!" the Ice Cream Man gave a warning cry. He was wheeling his barrow along by the Lake. The printed notice in front of it said:

STOP ME AND BUY ONE

CONFECTIONER

It turned out later, to Michael's surprise, that Ellen had no cold. She had another ailment, however, which went by the name of 'Ay Fever. She sneezed and sneezed till her face grew red. And it seemed to Michael that her feet grew bigger.

"I'm afraid I'll sneeze me 'ead right off!" she said lugubriously. And Michael almost wished she would.

"If there weren't any Thursdays," he said to Jane, "Mary Poppins would never go out!"

But, unfortunately, every week had a Thursday and once Mary Poppins was out of the house, it was no good calling her back.

There she went now, tripping down the Lane. She wore her black straw hat with the daisies and her best blue coat with the silver buttons. The children leaned from the nursery window and watched her retreating back. The parrot-head of her umbrella had a perky look, and she walked with a jaunty, expectant air as though she knew that a pleasant surprise awaited her round the corner.

"I wonder where she's going!" said Jane.

"I wish I were going, too!" groaned Michael. "Oh, Ellen, can't you stop sneezing!"

"Colder-hearted than a Toad, that boy is!" observed Ellen to her handkerchief. "As if I did it for choice! A-tishoo!"

She sneezed till the nursery furniture trembled. She sneezed the afternoon away and she sneezed all through supper. She sneezed the five of them through their baths and put them into bed, still sneezing. Then she sneezed on the night-light, sneezed the door shut and sneezed herself down the stairs.

"Thank goodness!" said Michael. "Now, let's do something!"

If Mary Poppins had been on duty they would never have dared to do anything. But nobody took any notice of Ellen.

Jane pattered over to the mantelpiece and took down the Cowrie Shell.

"It's still going on!" she said with delight. "Singing and gently roaring!"

"Good Gracious!" cried Michael, as he, too, listened. "I can even hear the fish swimming!"

"Don't be so silly! What nonsense you talk! Nobody ever heard a fish swim!"

Jane and Michael glanced round hurriedly. Whose voice was that? And where did it come from?

"Well, don't stand goggling at each other! Come on in!" the strange voice cried. And this time it seemed to come from the Shell.

"It's perfectly simple! Just shut your eyes and hold your breath — and dive!"

"Dive where?" said Michael disbelievingly. "We don't want to hit our heads on the hearth-rug!"

"Hearth-rug? Don't be so silly! Dive!" the voice commanded again.

"Come on, Michael! Stand beside me! At least we can try!" said Jane.

So, holding the Cowrie Shell between them, they shut their eyes and drew in their breath and dived as the voice had told them. To their surprise, their heads hit nothing. But the roaring sound from the Shell grew louder and a wind ran swiftly by their cheeks. Down they went, swooping like a pair of swallows, till suddenly water splashed around them and a wave went over their heads.

Michael opened his mouth and gave a splutter. "Oh, oh!" he cried loudly, "it tastes of salt!"

"Well, what did you think it would taste of? Sugar?" said the same little voice beside them.

"Are you all right, Michael?" Jane called anxiously.

"Ye-yes," he said bravely. "As long as you're there!"

She seized his hand and they dived together through rising walls of water.

"Shan't be long now," the voice assured them. "I can see the lights already."

Lights in the water — how strange! thought Jane. And she opened her eyes for a peep.

Below shone a ripple of coloured flares — blue, rose and silver, scarlet and green.

"Pretty, aren't they?" said the voice in her ear. And, turning, she saw, looking gleefully at her, the round, bright eye of a Sea-Ttout. He was perched like a bird on the bough of a tree, whose branches were all of crimson.

"That's coral!" she cried in astonishment. "We must be down in the deeps of the sea!"

"Well, wasn't that what you wanted?" said the Ttout. "I thought you wished you could see the sea!"

"I did," said Jane, looking very surprised. "But I never expected the wish to come true."

"Great Oceans! Why bother to wish it, then? I call that simply a waste of time. But come on! We mustn't be late for the Party!"

And before they had time to wonder where the Party was, he swept away through forests of coral and they dived behind him with the greatest of ease.

"Jumping Jellyfish!" cried a frightened voice. "What a start you gave me! It looked like a net!" A large fish darted through a curl of Jane's hair and hurtled away, looking very upset.

"That's the Haddock. He's nervous," the TYout explained. "He's lost so many old friends up there—" he pointed his fin up through the water, "and he's always afraid it's his turn next."

Jane thought how often she had eaten haddock for breakfast and felt a little guilty.

"I'm sorry—" she began to say, when a loud rough voice interrupted her.

"Move along, please! Don't block up the sea-lanes! Why can't you keep your fins to yourself!" A huge Cod shouldered his way between them.

"Cluttering up the Ocean like this! It's disgraceful! I'll be late for the Party!" He flung an angry glance at the children. "And who are you, anyway?" he demanded.

They were just about to tell him their names when the Ttout swam up beside the Cod and whispered in his ear.

"Oh, I see! Well, I hope they've got money to pay for their tickets!"

"Well — no—" Jane fumbled in her pocket.

"Tch, tch, tch! It's always the way. No method in anyone's madness. Here!" The Cod whisked a couple of flat white discs from a pocket under his tail. "Sand dollars," he explained importantly. "I always keep a few about me. Never know when I may need 'em." He tossed the dollars at the children and floundered away through the coral.

"Silly Old Codger!" remarked the Trout. "You needn't worry about your tickets. You're Guests of Honour. You'll get in free."

Jane and Michael looked at each other in surprise. They had never before been guests of honour and they felt very proud and superior.

"Who'll get in free, I'd like to know? Nobody's going to get in free while I'm around in the Ocean. Nor out, either, if it comes to that!" a grating, sawlike voice informed them.

Jane and Michael spun round. A pair of staring eyes met theirs, and a set of hairy, hungry feelers reached out in every direction. It was an Octopus.

"Yum, yu-u-um!" said the Octopus, leering at Michael. "Bobby Shafto's fat and fair — and just what I need for my Supper!" He reached out one of the dreadful feelers and Michael gave a squeak of terror.

"Oh, no, you don't!" the Ttout said quickly. And he whispered a word to the Octopus as Jane whisked Michael away.

"What? Speak up, can't you? I'm hard of hearing! Oh, I see. They belong to — all right, all right!"

The Octopus drew in his feeler regretfully. "We are always delighted," he went on loudly, "to have among us at High Tide anybody belonging to—"

"What in the Sea is all that chatter? I never get a moment's peace!" a querulous voice broke in.

The children turned in its direction. But all they saw was one small claw waving from inside a shell.

"That's the Hermit Crab!" the TVout explained. "Lives by himself and does nothing but grumble. Shuts up like a clam if anyone speaks to him. But, come! We must hurry. The music's starting."

Soft sounds of music came to their ears as they followed him through a tunnel of rock. A faint glow shone at the end of the tunnel and the music grew louder as they swam towards it. Then suddenly their eyes were dazzled as a flood of brilliance broke upon them. They had reached the end of the shadowy tunnel and before them was the loveliest sight the children had ever seen.

There lay the stretching floor of the sea, sown with soft lawns of greenest seaweed. It was threaded with paths of golden sand and dappled with flowers of every colour. Up from the sand stretched trees of coral, and plumes of sea-fern lolled on the water. The dark rocks glittered with shining shells and one of them, the largest of all, was covered with mother-of-pearl. Behind this rock lay a deep dark cavern, as black as the sky on a moonless night. And far within it faint lights twinkled as though stars shone in the depths of the sea.

Jane and Michael, at the tunnel's edge, looked out and gasped with delight.

Nothing in that bright scene was still. The rocks themselves seemed to bow and swing in the endless ripple of water. The small fish fluttered like butterflies between the swaying flowers. And festoons of seaweed, slung from the coral, were hung with a thousand swinging lights.

Chinese lanterns! thought Jane to herself. But, looking closer, she saw that the lights were really luminous fish. They hung by their mouths from the strings of seaweed and lit up the lawns with their brightness.

The music was playing more loudly now. It came from a little terrace of coral where several Crabs were playing on fiddles. A Flounder was puffing out its cheeks and blowing down a conch shell; while Cornet fish played on silver cornets and a Bass beat time on a big bass drum. About the players swam the bright sea-creatures, darting between the rock and the coral and leaping and plunging in time with the music. Mermaids in necklaces of pearl swam daintily round among the fish. And the silver sheen of tail and fin went sparkling everywhere.

"Oh!" cried Jane and Michael together, for it seemed the only thing to say.

"Well, here you are at last!" said a booming voice, as a big Bronze Seal came flapping towards them. "You're just in time for the Garden Party." He offered a flipper to each of the children and waddled along between them.

"Do you often give Garden Parties?" asked Michael. He was wishing he, too, could live in the sea.

"Oh, dear me, no!" the Seal replied. "Only when High Tide falls on — I say! I say! Were you invited?" He broke off to speak to a large grey shape. "I was told no whales were to be admitted!"

"Get out! Get out! No whales allowed!" came a chorus of fishy voices.

The Whale gave a flick of his monstrous tail and darted between two rocks. He had a large pathetic face and great sad eyes which he turned on the children. "It's the same each time," he said, shaking his head. "They say I'm too big, and I eat too much. Can't you persuade them to make an Exception? I do want to see the Distant Relative!"

"Whose distant relative?" Jane began, when the Seal interrupted loudly.

"Now, don't be pathetic, Whale. Get moving! Remember the last Unfortunate Incident. He ate up all the Sardine Sandwiches," the Seal said to Jane behind his flipper.

"No Admission Except on Business. All Riff-Raff keep outside the gates. Off with you, now. Swim along! No nonsense!" A fish with a sharp sword on his nose came bustling across the lawns.

"I never have any fun!" blubbered the Whale, as the Seal and the Swordfish chased him away.

Jane felt very sorry for him. "But, after all," she said, turning to Michael, "he does take up a lot of space!"

But Michael was no longer beside her. He had swum away with one of the mermaids who was dabbing at her face with a little pink sponge.

"Well, skirts, I suppose. And blouses and boots," Jane heard him saying as she swam towards them.

The Mermaid turned to Jane and smiled. "I was asking him about fashions up there—" she nodded upwards through the sea, "and he says they are wearing blouses and boots." She spoke the words with a little laugh as though they could not be true.

"And coats," Jane added. "And galoshes, of course!"

"Galoshes?" The Mermaid raised her eyebrows.

"To keep our feet dry," Jane explained.

The Mermaid gave a trill of laughter. "How very extraordinary!" she said. "Down here, we prefer to keep everything wet!" She turned on her tail to swim away when a clear voice suddenly hailed her.

"Hullo, Anemone!" it cried. And out from behind a bed of lilies a silver shape came leaping. At the sight of the children it stopped in mid-water and stared at them with its great bright eyes. "Why, Bless my Sole!" it cried in surprise. "Whoever caught those creatures?"

"Nobody," tinkled the Mermaid gaily, as she whispered behind her hand.

"Oh, really? How very delightful!" said the fish, with a supercilious smile.

"I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm the Deep-Sea Salmon," he explained, preening his silver fins. "King of the Fish, you know, and all that. I dare say you've heard of me now and again!" Indeed, by the way he swaggered and preened, you would have thought there was nothing else worth hearing about!

"Refreshments! Refreshments!" said a gloomy voice, as a Pike, with the air of an elderly butler, came hovering past with a tray.

"Help yourself!" said the Salmon, bowing to Jane, "A Sardine Sandwich or a Salted Shrimp? Or Jelly— the fishy kind, of course! And what about you—?" he turned to Michael. "Some Sea-Cow milk or Barnacle Beer? Or perhaps you'd prefer just Plain Sea Water!"

"I was given to h'understand, your 'Ighness, that the h'young gentleman h'wished for Port!" The Pike stared before him gloomily as he held out the tray towards them.

"Then Port he shall have!" said the Salmon imperiously, as he whisked a dark red drink from the tray.

With a start of surprise, Michael remembered his wish. He took the glass and sipped it eagerly. "It's igzactly like Raspberry Fizz!" he cried.

"Good!" said the Salmon conceitedly, as though he had made the Port himself. "Now, how would you like to look at the Catch? They're probably reeling the last ones in and we'll just have time if we hurry!"

"I wonder what has been caught!" thought Jane, as they darted along beside the Salmon. The sea-lanes by now were crowded with fish who were leaping towards the lawn.

"Now! Now! Remember whom you're pushing!" said the Salmon in a haughty voice as he scattered them right and left. "My Fins and Flippers! Look at those children!" He pointed to a group of Sea-Urchins who were tumbling noisily by. "Schoolmaster! Keep an eye on your pupils! This Ocean's becoming an absolute Bear Garden!"

"Eh what?" said an absent-minded fish who was floating along with his nose in a book. "Here, Winkle and Twinkle! And you, too, Spiky! Behave — or I shan't let you go to the Party!"

The urchins looked at each other and grinned. Then they solemnly swam along with the School-master, looking as though butter wouldn't melt in their mouths.

"Ah, here we are!" cried the Salmon gaily, as he led the children round a cluster of coral.

On a large flat rock sat a row of fish, all solemnly staring upward. Each fish held a fishing-rod in his fin and watched his line with an earnest gaze as it ran up through the water.

"The Angler-fish," the Salmon explained. "Talk softly! They don't like to be disturbed."

"But—" whispered Jane, looking very surprised, "the lines are going upwards!"

The Salmon stared. "Where else would they go?" he wanted to know. "You could hardly expect them to go downwards, could you? Bait!" he added, pointing to several water-proof bags that were filled with pastry tarts.

"But — what do they catch?" whispered Michael hoarsely.

"Oh, humans, mostly," the Salmon replied. "You can get almost anyone with a Strawberry Tart. They've taken a pretty good catch already. Look at them squirming and twitching!"

He flicked his tail at a nearby cave and the children gasped with astonishment. For there, looking very cross and disgruntled, stood a cluster of human beings. Men in dark goggles and summer hats were shaking their fists and stamping. Three elderly ladies were waving umbrellas and a younger one in rubber boots was wringing her hands in despair. Beside her holding a shrimping net, stood two disconsolate children.

"Well, how do you like it?" jeered the Salmon. "I must say you look extremely funny! Exactly like fish out of water!"

The humans all gave a furious snort and turned their backs on the Salmon. And at the same moment, from somewhere above, a wild cry rent the sea.

"Let me go, I say! Take this hook out at once! How dare you do such a thing to me!"

One of the Angler-fish, smiling quietly, began to reel in his line.

"Take it out, I tell you!" came the voice again.

And down through the sea, with a rush of bubbles, came a most extraordinary figure. Its body was clothed in a thick tweed coat; a grey veil floated from the hat on its head; and upon its feet were thick wool stockings and large-size button boots.

Michael opened his mouth and stared and made a gargling noise.

"Jane! Do you see? I believe it's—"

"Miss Andrew!" said Jane, who was gargling, too.

And Miss Andrew indeed it was. Down she came, coughing and choking and shouting. The Angler-fish jerked the hook from her mouth and pushed her towards the cave.

"Outrageous! Preposterous!" she spluttered. "How was I to know that Tart had a hook on it! You villains!" She shook her fist at the Anglers. "I shall write to The Times! I shall have you fried!"

"Look at her writhing!" crowed the Salmon. "She's a whopper! She'll wriggle for hours and hours."

Jane felt that Miss Andrew deserved all she got, but she looked at the children anxiously. How terrible, she thought to herself, if she had been caught — or Michael!

"What will the Anglers do with them?" she asked the Salmon earnestly.

"Oh, throw them back again, of course! We only catch them for sport, you know. They're far too tough for eating."

"Hey! Come along, Salmon!" called the Seal from the distance. "We can't let the children miss the Greeting. And she's due to arrive any minute."

Jane looked at Michael in silent question. Who could she be? An important Mermaid? Or perhaps the Queen of the Sea!

"Kippers and Catfish! I'd forgotten! Come on, you two!" cried the Salmon.

He went before them, leaping and curving. Beside them a sea-horse trotted swiftly. And fish swam in and out among them as they hurried towards the lawns.

"Hullo, Jane and Michael!" piped a friendly voice. "Remember me — in your goldfish bowl? I'm back at home now. Give my love to your Mother!" The Goldfish smiled and darted away before they had time to answer.

"What a crush! One might as well be tinned!" said the Salmon, threshing his tail.

"Refreshments! Refreshments!" the Pike cried hoarsely.

"Yo, ho, ho! And a bottle of rum!" a familiar voice answered. And Admiral Boom came plunging past and seized a glass from the tray. Beside him swam Mrs. Boom's dove-like figure. And, floundering in their wake, came Binnacle.

"Shiver my timbers! Ahoy there, messmates! For I'm bound for the Rio Grande!" bawled the Admiral.

The Pike stared after him, shaking his head. "'Ooligans — that's what they are!" he said gloomily. "I h'really don't know h'what the h'Ocean's coming to!"

"Ah, there you are, children!" the Bronze Seal cried, as he shouldered his way through the throng. "Hang on to my tall and I'll pull you through. Excuse me! Let me pass, please, fish! These are Jane and Michael, the Guests of Honour!"

The fish drew back and stared at them. Polite murmurs of welcome sounded amid the noise. The Seal pushed the crowd aside with his flippers and dragged the children after him to the rock of shining pearl.

"We're just in time for the Greeting!" he panted. They could hardly hear his booming voice because of the shouting and laughter.

"What greeting?" Jane was about to ask, when, all of a sudden, the shouting ceased. The music and laughter died away and a deep hush fell on the sea. Each fish in the crowd was as still as stone. The swaying flowers stood quiet in the water. And the tide itself was still.

"He's coming!" said the Seal in a whisper, as he nodded towards the cave.

"He's coming!" the watching creatures echoed.

Then, out from the black mysterious cave, a withered head emerged. A pair of ancient sleepy eyes blinked at the dazzle of lights. Two wrinkled flippers stretched from the darkness and a domed black shell heaved up behind them.

The children clutched the Bronze Seal's flippers.

"Who is it?" whispered Jane in his ear. She thought it might be a tortoise, perhaps, or a strange kind of turtle.

"The Terrapin," the Seal replied gruffly. "The oldest and wisest thing in the world."

Inch by inch on trembling flippers the Terrapin crept to the pearly rock. His eyes beneath the half-closed lids were like two small black stars. He gazed at the assembled creatures for a moment. Then lifting his withered, ancient head the Terrapin smiled, and spoke.

"My friends," he began majestically, in a voice like an old, cracked bell, "I greet you, creatures of the Sea! And I wish you a happy High-Tide Party!"

He bowed his withered head to the rock and the fish bowed humbly in the water.

"This is a great occasion for us all," the Terrapin went on quietly. "I am glad indeed to see tonight so many old acquaintances." His black-star gaze swept the crowded lawns, as though in one glance he recognized every creature in the sea. "But surely," the wrinkled brows went up, "there is one of us missing!"

The Seal glanced round towards the tunnel and his voice boomed out with a cry of triumph.

"She is here, my lord! She has just arrived!"

As he spoke a clamour of voices rose and the creatures clapped and cheered. At the same moment, to the children's amazement, a figure that was strangely familiar appeared at the edge of the tunnel. There it stood, dressed in its best blue coat and the straw hat trimmed with daisies. Then, dainty and graceful, neat and prim, it swooped across the shining gardens. The cheering rose to a roar of joy as it landed upon the Terrapin's rock.

"Welcome, Mary Poppins!" cried a thousand happy voices.

She waved her parrot umbrella in greeting, then she turned and curtsied to the Terrapin.

For a long moment he gazed at her, as though his ancient glittering eyes were looking into her heart. Then he waved his little naked head and gave her a friendly smile.

"My dear young relative!" he said, graciously. "This is indeed a pleasure. It is long since I had a visitor from the world above the water. And long, too, since your Second Thursday fell upon our High Tide. Therefore, in the name of the creatures of the deep, I bid you welcome, Mary!" And, blinking, he offered her a small withered flipper.

Mary Poppins took it and bowed respectfully. Then the china blue eyes looked into the black ones and a strange smile passed between them. It was as though neither of them had any secrets from the other.

"And now, dear Mary," the Terrapin continued, "since nobody comes down to the depths of the sea without taking something away with them, let me give you a little present."

He reached his flipper back into the cave and brought out a small bright object. "Take this to remind you of your visit. It will make a nice brooch, or perhaps a hat-pin." And, leaning forward, he pressed a starfish on Mary Poppins' coat. It shone and twinkled upon the blue like a little cluster of diamonds.

"Oh, thank you!" she said, with a cry of delight. "It's exactly what I wanted!"

She smiled at the Terrapin and then at the star and her glance slid away to the children. The smile faded instantly. She gave a disgusted sniff.

"If I've told you once, Jane, not to gape, I've told you a thousand times! Close your mouth, Michael! You are not a Codfish!"

"I should think not!" muttered the Cod indignantly, from his place behind the children.

"So — these are Jane and Michael!" said the Terrapin, as he turned his sleepy eyes upon them. "I am very glad to meet you at last. Welcome, my children, to our High-Tide Party!"

He bowed gravely and, urged by Mary Poppins' glare, they bowed in return. "You see," he went on in his old, cracked voice, "I know who Jane and Michael are. But I wonder — yes, I wonder indeed, if they know who I am!"

They shook their heads and gazed at him speechlessly.

He moved his carapace a little and thoughtfully blinked for a moment. Then he spoke.

"I am the Terrapin. I dwell at the roots of the world. Under the cities, under the hills, under the very sea itself, I make my home. Up from my dark root, through the waters, the earth rose with its flowers and forests. The man and the mountain sprang from it. The great beasts, too, and the birds of the air."

He ceased for a moment and the creatures in the sea about him were quiet as they watched him. Then he went on. "I am older than all things that are. Silent and dark and wise am I, and quiet and very patient. Here in my cave all things have their beginning. And all things return to me in the end. I can wait. I can wait…"

He folded his lids upon his eyes and nodded his naked wrinkled head as though he were talking to himself. "I have no more to say," he said, blinking.

"So—" he held up a little lordly flipper. "Bid the music play!" he commanded the Seal. "And let the sea-people choose their dance. What shall it be this time, my children?"

"Tiddy-um-pom-pom, tiddy-um-pom-pom!" hummed a voice like a bee in a bottle.

"Ah, yes, my dear Admiral!" the Terrapin nodded. "A very suitable suggestion. Strike up the Sailor's Hornpipe!"

At once a wild commotion rose. The band broke into swift gay music and the still fish flickered their tails again. Voices and laughter filled the sea and the tide began to move.

Tiddy-um-pom-pom! Away they went — fishes and mermaids, urchins, seals.

Tiddy-um-pom-pom! cried Admiral Boom, as he pulled on invisible tarry ropes. Tiddy-um-pom-pom! sang Mrs. Boom, clasping her hands and rocking her feet. Tiddy-um-pom-pom! sang Binnacle loudly, as he thought of his happy pirate days. And the fish danced in and out among them and waved their shining fins.

The Bronze Seal flapped up and down on his tail and the Salmon swooped over the lawns like a bird.

"Tiddy-um-pom-pom!"

The Angler-fish pranced by with their rods and the Swordfish and School-master danced together. And ever among the scaly throng, a dark shape moved like a graceful shadow. Heel and toe, went Mary Poppins as she danced the Hornpipe on the floor of the sea.

The children stood by the pearly rock and stared at the curious scene.

"You find it strange, do you not?" said the Terrapin. "I can see you are feeling all at sea!" He cackled gently at his own little joke.

Jane nodded. "I thought the sea would be so different, but really, it's very like the land!"

"And why not?" said the Terrapin, blinking. "The land came out of the sea, remember. Each thing on the earth has a brother here — the lion, the dog, the hare, the elephant. The precious gems have their kind in the sea, so have the starry constellations. The rose remembers the salty waters and the moon the ebb and flow of the tide. You, too, must remember it, Jane and Michael! There are more things in the sea, my children, than ever came out of it. And I don't mean fish!" the Terrapin smiled. "But I see that your twenty toes are twitching! Be off with you, now, and join the dance."

Jane seized Michael by the hand. Then, because she remembered he was very old, she curtsied to the Terrapin before they darted away.

They plunged together among the fish in time to the beat of the music. Oh, how their bare feet twinkled and pranced! Oh, how their arms waved through the water! And their bodies swayed like strands of seaweed as they went through the steps of the Sailor's Hornpipe.

Tiddy-um-pom-pom! cried the merry music, as Mary Poppins came swimming towards them. She took their hands and they danced together, pulling and rocking through the boughs of coral. Round they went, faster and ever faster, spinning like tops in the spinning water. Till, dazed with the dance and dazzled with lights, they closed their eyes and leaned against her. And her arms went round them, firmly, strongly, as she lifted them through the moving tide.

Tiddy-um-pom-pom! They swung together and the music grew fainter as they swung. Tiddy-um-pom-pom! Oh, the circling sea, that rocks us all in its mighty cradle! Tiddy-um-pom-pom! Oh, Mary Poppins, swing me round like a bubble in the falling tide. Swing me round — tiddy-um… Swing me round — pom-pom… Swing me… Swing me… Swing….

"Hold me tight, Mary Poppins!" murmured Michael drowsily, as he felt for her comforting arm.

There was no answer.

"Are you there, Mary Poppins?" he said with a yawn, as he leaned on the rocking sea.

Still no answer.

So, keeping his eyes closed, he called again and the sea seemed to echo his voice. "Mary Poppins, I want you! Mary Poppins, where are you?"

"Where I always am at this hour of the morning!" she replied with an angry snap.

"Oh, what a beautiful dance!" he said sleepily. And he put out his hand to draw her to him.

It touched nothing. All that his searching fingers found was a warm, soft bulkiness suspiciously like a pillow.

"I'll thank you to dance yourself out of bed! It is nearly time for breakfast!"

Her voice had the rumble of distant thunder. And Michael opened his eyes with a start.

Good gracious! Where was he? Surely it could not be the Nursery! Yet there was Old Dobbin standing still in the corner; and Mary Poppins' neat camp bed and the toys and the books and his slippers. All the old familiar things were there but the last thing Michael wanted just now was an old familiar thing.

"But where's the sea gone?" he said crossly. "I want to be back in the sea!"

Her face popped round the bathroom door and he knew at once she was furious.

"The sea is at Brighton where it always is!" she said, with fierce distinctness. "Now, spit-spot and up you get. And Not Another Word!"

"But I was in it a moment ago! And so were you, Mary Poppins. We were dancing around among the fish and doing the Sailor's Hornpipe!"

"Humph!" she said, giving the bath-mat a shake. "I hope I have something better to do than to go out dancing with sailors!"

"Well, what about all the fish?" he demanded. "And the Seal and the Salmon and that funny old Ttxrtle? We were down there with them, Mary Poppins, right on the floor of the sea!"

"Down in the sea? With a funny old Salmon? Well, you certainly have the fishiest dreams! I suppose you had too many buns for Supper! Sailors and TUrtles, indeed! What next?" Her apron gave an angry crackle as she flounced away, muttering.

He gazed at her retreating back and frowned and shook his head. He dared not say any more, he knew, but she couldn't stop him wondering.

So he wondered and wondered as he got out of bed and poked his toes into his slippers. And as he wondered his eyes met Jane's as she peeped from under the blankets. She had heard every word of the argument and while she had listened, she had thought her own thoughts and her eyes had noticed something. Now she smiled a secret smile at Michael and nodded her head wisely.

"It was fishy," she said. "But it wasn't a dream." And she pointed to the mantelpiece.

He looked up. He gave a start of surprise. Then a smile of triumph spread over his face.

For there, beside the Cowrie Shell, were the two Sand Dollars and a little pink Starfish.

"You remember what the Terrapin said? Everyone who goes down to the sea brings something back," Jane reminded him.

Michael nodded as he gazed at the Sand Dollars. And at that moment the door burst open and Mary Poppins bounced back. She plucked the Starfish from the mantelpiece and pinned it to her collar. It twinkled brightly as she prinked and pranked in front of the Nursery mirror.

Michael turned to Jane with a smothered giggle.

"Tiddy-um-pom-pom!" he hummed under his breath.

"Tiddy-um-pom-pom!" Jane said in a whisper.

And, daringly, behind Mary Poppins' stiff straight back, they danced a few steps of the Hornpipe.

They never noticed that her bright blue eyes were watching them in the mirror and calmly exchanging with her own reflection a very superior smile….

Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!

Suddenly, through the silent night, a peal of bells rang out.

Ding-dong! Ring-ting! Ding-dong!

From every tower and steeple the swinging chimes went forth. The bells of the city echoed and tossed and floated across the Park to the Lane. From North and South and East and West they pealed and clanged and chimed. People leaned over their windowsills and rattled their dinner bells. And those who hadn't a dinner bell played tunes on their Front Door knockers.

Along the Lane came the Ice Cream Man, twanging his bicycle bell with gusto. In the garden of Admiral Boom, at the corner, a ship's bell clanged through the frosty air. And Miss Lark, in the Next Door drawing-room, tinkled her little breakfast bell, while the two dogs barked and howled.

Clang-clang! Tinkle-tinkle! Ding-dong! Bow-wow!

Everybody in the world was ringing a bell. The echoes clashed and chimed and rhymed in the chilly midnight dark.

Then all of a sudden, there was silence. And out of the stillness, solemn and deep, the sound of a great clock striking.

"Boom!" said Big Ben.

It was the first stroke of Midnight.

At that moment something stirred in the Nursery. Then came the sound of clattering hooves.

Jane and Michael were wide awake in an instant. They both sat up with a start.

"Goodness!" said Michael.

"Gracious!" said Jane.

For before them lay an astounding sight. There on the floor, stood the Golden Pig, prancing about on his gold hind trotters and looking very important.

Plump! With a heavy muffled thud, Alfred the Elephant landed beside him. And, leaping lightly from the top of the cupboard, came Pinnie the Monkey and the old Blue Duck.

Then, to the children's astonishment, the Golden Pig spoke.

"Will somebody kindly put on my tail?" he enquired in a high, shrill voice.

Michael flung himself out of bed and rushed to the mantelpiece.

"That's better," remarked the Pig, with a smile. "I've been most uncomfortable ever since Christmas. A Pig without a tail, you know, is almost as bad as a tail without a Pig. And now," he went on, as he glanced round the room, "are we all ready? Then, hurry, please!"

As he spoke he pranced daintily to the door, followed by Alfred, Pinnie and the Duck.

"Where are you going?" Jane cried, staring.

"You'll soon see," answered the Pig. "Come on!"

In a flash they had flung on gowns and slippers and were following the four toys down the stairs and out through their own Front Door.

"This way!" said the Pig, as he pranced across Cherry-Tree Lane and through the Gates of the Park.

Pinnie and the Blue Duck danced beside him, wildly squealing and quacking. And after them lumbered Alfred the Elephant with Jane and Michael at his grey-flannel heels.

Above the trees hung a round white moon. Its gleaming silver rays poured down on the wide lawns of the Park. And there on the grass was a throng of figures, moving backwards and forwards in the shimmering light.

Alfred flung up his flannel trunk and eagerly sniffed the air.

"Ha!" he remarked delightedly. "We're safely inside, Pig, don't you think?"

"Inside what?" asked Michael curiously.

"The Crack," said Alfred, flapping his ears.

The children stared at each other. What on earth could Alfred mean?

But the Pig was beckoning them towards him with a wave of his golden trotter; and bright forms flickered behind and around them as they hurried to the lawn.

"Excuse us, please!" said three small shapes as they brushed against the children.

"The Three Blind Mice," explained Alfred, smiling. "They're always under everyone's feet!"

"Are they running away from the Farmer's Wife?" cried Michael, very surprised and excited.

"Oh, dear no! Not tonight," said Alfred. "They're hurrying to meet her. The Three Blind Mice and the Farmer's Wife are all inside the Crack!"

"Hullo, Alfred — you got in safely!"

"Why, it's dear old Pinnie!"

"What, the Blue Duck, too?"

"Hooray, hooray! Here's the Golden Pig!"

There were cries of welcome and shouts of joy as everyone greeted everyone else. A Tin Soldier who was marching past, saluted the Pig and he waved his trotter. Pinnie shook hands with a pair of birds whom he hailed as Cock Robin and Jenny Wren. And the Blue Duck quacked at an Easter Chicken half-in and half-out of its egg. As for Alfred, he flung up his trunk in all directions and loudly trumpeted greetings.

"Aren't you cold, my dear? It's chilly tonight!" A gruff voice spoke behind Jane's shoulder.

She turned to find a bearded man dressed in the strangest garments. He had goatskin trousers, a beaver cap and a large umbrella of rabbit-tails. Behind him, with an armful of furs, stood a black, half-naked figure.

"Friday," said the bearded man. "Oblige me by giving this lady a coat."

"Suttinly, Massa! Ah aims to please!" And the great black creature, with a graceful movement, flung a sealskin cloak about Jane's shoulders.

She stared.

"So you're—" she began, and smiled at him shyly.

"Of course I am," said the tall man, bowing. "Please call me Robinson! All my friends do. Mr. Crusoe sounds so formal."

"But I thought you were in a book!" said Jane.

"I am," said Robinson Crusoe, smiling. "But tonight someone kindly left it open. And so I escaped, you see!"

Jane thought of the books on top of the toycupboard. She remembered how Mary Poppins had opened them before she put out the light.

"Does it often happen?" she questioned eagerly.

"Alas, no! Only at the end of the year. The Crack's our one and only chance. But, excuse me! I must speak to—"

Robinson Crusoe turned to greet a curious egg-shaped little man who was hurrying past on spindly legs. His pointed head was as bald as an egg and his neck was muffled in a woolen scarf. He stared inquisitively at the children, as he greeted Robinson Crusoe.

"Good Gracious!" cried Michael in surprise. "You're igzackly like Humpty-Dumpty!"

"Like?" shrilled the little man, haughtily. "How can anyone be like himself, I'd like to know? I've heard of people being ‹‹like themselves — when they've been naughty or eaten too much — but never like. Don't be so silly!"

"But — you're quite whole!" said Michael, staring. "I thought Humpty-Dumpty couldn't be mended."

"Who said I couldn't?" cried the little man, angrily.

"Well, I just thought — er — that all the King's horses and — er — all the King's men—" Michael began to stammer.

"Pooh — horses! What do they know about it? And as for the King's men — stupid creatures! — they only know about horses! And because they couldn't put me together, it doesn't say no one else could, does it?"

Not wishing to contradict him, Jane and Michael shook their heads.

"As a matter of fact," Humpty-Dumpty went on, "the King himself mended me — didn't you — heh?"

He shrieked the last words at a round fat man who was holding a crown on his head with one hand and carrying a pie-dish in the other.

"He's just like the King in Mary Poppins' story! He must be Old King Cole!" said Jane.

"Didn't I what?" the King enquired, carefully balancing his pie and his crown.

"Stick me together!" shrieked Humpty-Dumpty.

"Of course I did. Just for tonight, you know. With honey. In the Queen's parlour. But you really mustn't bother me now. My Four-and-Twenty Blackbirds are going to sing and I have to open the Pie."

"There, what did I tell you?" screamed Humpty-Dumpty. "How dare you suggest I'm a Broken Egg!" He turned his back upon them rudely and his big cracked head shone white in the moonlight.

"Don't argue with him! It's no good," said Alfred. "He's always so touchy about that fall. Here! Step on your own toes! Look who you're pushing!" He turned and made a sweep with his trunk and a crowned Lion lightly leapt aside.

"Sorry!" exclaimed the Lion, politely. "It's such a frightful crush tonight. Have you seen the Unicorn, by the way? Ah, there he is! Hi! Wait a minute!" And, growling softly in his throat, he pounced upon a silvery figure that was daintily trotting by.

"Oh, stop him! Stop him!" Jane cried anxiously. "He's going to beat the Unicorn all round the Town!"

"Not tonight," said Alfred, reassuringly. "You just watch!"

Jane and Michael stared with astonishment as they saw the Lion bowing. Then he took the golden crown from his head and offered it to the Unicorn.

"It's your turn to wear it," the Lion said courteously. Then the two exchanged a tender embrace and danced off into the crowd.

"Children behaving nicely tonight?" they heard the Unicorn enquire of a withered old woman who was dancing past. She was pulling along an enormous Shoe, full of laughing boys and girls.

"Oh, so nicely!" cried the Old Woman gaily. "I haven't used my whip once! George Porgie is such a help with the girls. They insist on being kissed tonight. And as for the boys, they're just sugar and spice. Look at Red Riding Hood hugging that Wolf! She's trying to teach him to beg for supper. Sit down, please, Muffet. And hold on tight!"

The Old Woman waved at a fair little girl who sat at the back of the Shoe. She was deep in conversation with a large black Spider; and as the Shoe went rumbling past, she reached out her hand and patted him gently.

"She's not even running away!" cried Michael. "Why isn't she frightened?" he wanted to know.

"Because of the Crack," said Alfred again, as he hurried them before him.

Jane and Michael couldn't help staring at Red Riding Hood and Miss Muffett. Fancy not being afraid of the Wolf and that black enormous Spider!

Then a filmy whiteness brushed them lightly and they turned to find a shining shape yawning behind its hand.

"Still sleepy, Beauty?" trumpeted Alfred, as he slipped his trunk round her waist.

She patted the trunk and leaned against him.

"I was deep in a dream," she murmured softly. "But the First Stroke, luckily, woke me up!"

As she said that, Michael's curiosity could contain itself no longer.

"But I don't understand!" he burst out loudly. "Everything's upside down tonight! Why doesn't the Spider frighten Miss Muffett? And the Lion beat the Unicorn?"

"Alfred has told you," said Sleeping Beauty. "Because we are all in the Crack."

" What crack?" demanded Michael.

"The Crack between the Old Year and the New. The Old Year dies on the First Stroke of Midnight and the New Year is born on the Last Stroke. And in between — while the other ten strokes are sounding — there lies the secret Crack."

"Yes?" said Jane, breathlessly, for she wanted to know more.

The Sleeping Beauty gave a charming yawn and smiled upon the children.

"And inside the Crack all things are as one. The eternal opposites meet and kiss. The wolf and the lamb lie down together, the dove and the serpent share one nest. The stars bend down and touch the earth and the young and the old forgive each other. Night and day meet here, so do the poles. The East leans over towards the West and the circle is complete. This is the time and place, my darlings — the only time and the only place — where everybody lives happily ever after. Look!"

The Sleeping Beauty waved her hand.

Jane and Michael, glancing past it, saw three Bears hopping clumsily round a little bright-haired girl.

"Goldilocks," explained the Sleeping Beauty. "As safe and sound as you are. Oh, good-evening, Punch! How's the baby, Judy?"

She waved to a pair of long-nosed puppets who were strolling arm in arm. "They're a loving couple tonight, you see, because they're inside the Crack. Oh, look!"

This time she pointed to a towering figure. His great feet stamped upon the lawn and his head was as high as the tallest tree. A huge club was balanced on one shoulder; and perched on the other sat a laughing boy who was tweaking the big man's ear.

"That's Jack-the-Giant-Killer with his Giant. The two are bosom friends tonight." The Sleeping Beauty glanced up, smiling. "And here, at last, come the Witches!"

There was a whirr above the children's heads as a group of beady-eyed old women swooped through the air on broomsticks. A cry of welcome rose to greet them as they plunged into the crowd. Everyone rushed to shake their hands and the old women cackled with witch-like laughter.

"Nobody's frightened of them tonight. They're happy ever after!" The Sleeping Beauty's drowsy voice was like a lullaby. She stretched her arms about the children and the three stood watching the thronging figures. A Hare and a Tortoise danced by together, the Queen and the Knave of Hearts embraced, and Beauty gave her hand to the Beast. The lawns bent under the tripping feet and the air was dizzy with nodding heads as Kings and Princesses, Heroes and Witches saluted each other in the Crack between the years.

"Gangway! Gangway! Let me pass!" cried a high, clear voice.

And far away at the end of the lawn they saw the Golden Pig. He plunged through the crowd on his stiff hind legs, dividing it to left and right with a wave of his golden trotter.

Jack-the-Giant-Killer with his Giant

"Make way! Make way!" he shouted importantly. And the crowd parted and drew aside so that it formed a double row of bowing, curtsying creatures.

For now there appeared, at the heels of the Pig, a figure that was curiously familiar. A hat with a bow was upon its head and its coat shone brightly with silver buttons. Its eyes were as blue as Willow-Pattern and its nose turned up in an airy way like the nose of a Dutch Doll.

Lightly she tripped along the path, with the Golden Pig prancing neatly before her. And as she came a cry of greeting rose up from every throat. Hats and caps and crowns and coronets were tossed into the air. And the moon itself seemed to shine more brightly as she walked beneath its rays.

"But why is she here?" demanded Jane, as she watched that shape come down the clearing. "Mary Poppins is not a fairy-tale."

"She's even better!" said Alfred loyally. "She's a fairy-tale come true. Besides," he rumbled, "she's the Guest of the Evening! It was she who left the books open."

Amid the happy shouts of welcome, Mary Poppins bowed to right and left. Then she marched to the centre of the lawn and, opening her black hand-bag, she took out a concertina.

"Choose your partners!" cried the Golden Pig, as he drew a flute from a pocket in his skin and put it to his mouth.

At that command, every creature there turned swiftly to his neighbour. Then the flute broke into a swinging tune; the concertina and the Four-and-Twenty Blackbirds took up the gay refrain; and a white Cat played the chorus sweetly on a hey-diddle Fiddle.

"Can it be my cat?" Michael wondered, as he looked for the pattern of flowers and leaves. He had no time to decide, however, for his attention was attracted by Alfred.

The grey-flannel Elephant lumbered past, uttering happy jungle cries and using his trunk as a trumpet.

"May I have the Pleasure, my dear young Lady?" He bowed to the Sleeping Beauty. She gave him her hand and they danced away, Alfred taking care not to tread on her toes and the Sleeping Beauty yawning daintily and looking very dreamy.

Everyone seemed to be choosing a partner or finding a friend in the throng.

"Kiss me! Kiss me!" cried a group of girls, as they twined their arms round a large fat schoolboy.

"Out of my way, young Georgie Porgie!" cried the Farmer's Wife, dancing with Three Blind Mice.

"Choose your partners!" cried the Golden Pig

And the fat boy plunged off into the crowd with the girls all laughing about him.

"One and two and hop and turn — that's the way it goes." Red Riding Hood, holding the Wolf by the paw, was teaching him how to dance. The Wolf, looking very humble and shy, was watching his feet as she counted.

Jane and Michael could hardly believe their eyes. But before they had time to think about it, a friendly voice hailed them.

"Do you dance?" said Robinson Crusoe gaily, as he took Jane's hand and whirled her away. She swung around, pressed to his goatskin coat, as Michael pranced off in the arms of Man Friday.

"Who is that?" asked Jane as they danced along. For there was the Blue Duck waddling past, clasped to the bosom of a large grey bird.

"That's Goosey Gander!" said Robinson Crusoe. "And there is Pinnie — with Cinderella."

She glanced round quickly. And there, sure enough, was old rag Pinnie, looking very important and proud of himself as he danced with a beautiful Lady.

Everybody had a partner. No one was lonely or left out. All the fairy-tales ever told were gathered together on that square of grass, embracing each other with joy.

"Are you happy, Jane?" Michael called to her, as he and Friday went galloping past.

"For ever and ever!" she answered smiling, and for that moment knew it was true.

The music was swifter now and wilder. It tossed among the tossing trees, it echoed above the strokes of the clock. Mary Poppins, the Pig and the Fiddling Cat were bending and swaying as they played. Again and again the Blackbirds sang and never seemed to grow weary. The fairy-tale figures swung about the children; and in their ears the fairy-tale voices were sweetly singing and laughing.

"Happy ever after!" came the echoing cry, from everyone in the Park.

"What was that?" cried Jane to her partner. For behind the shouting and the music, she had heard the boom of the clock.

"Time's nearly up!" said Robinson Crusoe. "That must have been the Sixth Stroke!"

They paused for a moment in their dance and listened to the clock.

Seven! Above the sound rose the fairy-tale music, rocking them all in its golden net.

Eight! said the steady, distant boom. And the dancing feet seemed to move more swiftly.

Nine! The trees themselves were dancing now, bending their boughs to the fairy tune.

Ten! O Lion and Unicorn, Wolf and Lamb! Friend and Enemy! Dark and Light!

Eleven! O fleeting moment! O time on the wing! How short is the space between the years! Let us be happy — happy ever after!

Twelve!

Solemn and deep the last stroke struck.

"Twelve!" The cry went up from every throat and the ring immediately broke and scattered. Bright shapes brushed swiftly past the children, Jack and his Giant, Punch and Judy. Away sped the Spider with Miss Muffett; and Humpty-Dumpty on his spindly legs. The Lion, the Unicorn, Goldilocks, Red Riding Hood and Three Blind Mice — they streamed away across the grass and seemed to melt in the moonshine.

Cinderella and the Witches vanished. The Sleeping Beauty and the Cat with the Fiddle fled, and were lost in light. And Jane and Michael, looking round for their partners, found that Robinson Crusoe and his Man Friday had dissolved into the air.

The fairy-tale music died away, it was lost in the lordly peal of bells. For now from every tower and steeple the chimes rang out, triumphant. Big Ben, St. Paul's, St. Bride's, Old Bailey, Southwark, St. Martin's, Westminster, Bow.

But one bell sounded above the others, merry and clear and insistent.

Ting-aling-aling-aling! It was different, somehow, from the New Year bells, familiar and friendly and nearer home.

Ting-aling-aling! it cried. And mixed with its echoes was a well-known voice.

"Who wants crumpets?" the voice said loudly, demanding immediate answer.

Jane and Michael opened their eyes. They sat up and stared about them. They were in their beds, under the eiderdowns, and John and Barbara were asleep beside them. The fire glowed gaily in the grate. The morning light streamed through the Nursery window. Ting-aling! From somewhere down below in the Lane came the sound of the tinkling bell.

"I said 'Who wants crumpets?' Didn't you hear me? The Crumpet Man's down in the Lane."

There was no mistaking it. The voice was the voice of Mary Poppins, and it sounded very impatient.

"I do!" said Michael, hurriedly.

"I do!" echoed Jane.

Mary Poppins sniffed. "Then why not say so at once!" she said snappily. She crossed to the window and waved her hand to summon the Crumpet Man.

Downstairs the front gate opened quickly with its usual noisy squeak. The Crumpet Man ran up the path and knocked at the Back Door. He was sure of an order from Number Seventeen for all the Banks family were partial to crumpets.

Mary Poppins turned away from the window and put a log on the fire.

Michael gazed at her sleepily for a moment. Then he rubbed his eyes and, with a start, he woke up completely.

"I say!" he shouted. "I want my Pig! Where is it, Mary Poppins?"

"Yes!" joined in Jane. "And I want Alfred! And where are the Blue Duck and Pinnie?"

"On the top of the cupboard. Where else would they be?" said Mary Poppins crossly.

They glanced up. There were the four toys standing in a row, exactly as she had left them. And in front of them lay Robinson Crusoe, The Green Fairy Book and Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes. But the books were no longer open as they had been last night. They were piled upon one another neatly and all were firmly closed.

"But — how did they get back from the Park?" said Michael, very surprised.

"And where is the Pig's flute?" Jane exclaimed. "And your concertina!"

It was now Mary Poppins' turn to stare.

"My — what?" she enquired, with an ominous look.

"Your concertina, Mary Poppins! You played it last night in the Park!"

Mary Poppins turned from the fire and came towards Jane, glaring.

"I'd like you to repeat that, please!" Her voice was quiet but dreadful. "Did I understand you to say, Jane Banks, that I was in the Park last night, playing a musical instrument? Me?"

"But you were!" protested Michael bravely. "We were all there. You and the Toys and Jane and I. We were dancing with the Fairy-tales inside the Crack!"

Mary Poppins stared at them as though her ears had betrayed her. The look on her face was Simply Frightful.

"Fairy-tales inside the Crack? Humph! You'll have Fairy-tales inside the Bath-room, if I hear One More Word. And the door locked, I promise you! Crack, indeed! Cracked, more likely!"

And turning away disgustedly, she opened the door with an angry fling and hurried down the stairs.

Michael was silent for a minute, thinking and remembering.

"It's funny," he said presently. "I thought it was true. But I must have dreamed it."

Jane did not answer.

She had suddenly darted out of bed and was putting a chair against the toy-cupboard. She climbed up quickly and seized the animals and ran across to Michael.

"Feel their feet!" she whispered excitedly.

He ran his hand over the Pig's trotters; he felt the grey-flannel hooves of Alfred, the Duck's webbed feet and Pinnie's paws.

"They're wet!" he said, with astonishment.

Jane nodded.

"And look!" she cried, snatching their slippers from under the beds and Mary Poppins' shoes from the boot-box.

The slippers were drenched and stained with dew; and on the soles of Mary Poppins' shoes were wet little broken blades of grass, the sort of thing you would expect to find on shoes that have danced at night in the Park.

Michael looked up at Jane and laughed.

"It wasn't a dream, then!" he said happily.

Jane shook her head, smiling.

They sat together on Michael's bed, nodding knowingly at each other, saying in silence the secret things that could not be put into words.

Presently Mary Poppins came in with the crumpets in her hand.

They looked at her over the shoes and slippers.

She looked at them over the plate of crumpets.

A long, long look of understanding passed between the three of them. They knew that she knew that they knew.

"Is today the New Year, Mary Poppins?" asked Michael.

"Yes," she said calmly, as she put the plate down on the table.

Michael looked at her solemnly. He was thinking about the Crack.

"Shall we, too, Mary Poppins?" he asked, blurting out the question.

"Shall you, too, what?" she enquired with a sniff.

"Live happily ever afterwards?" he said eagerly.

A smile, half sad, half tender, played faintly round her mouth.

"Perhaps," she said, thoughtfully. "It all depends."

"What on, Mary Poppins?"

"On you," she said, quietly, as she carried the crumpets to the fire….

And many a stormy Wind shall blow