The summer day was hot and still. The cherry-trees that bordered the Lane could feel their cherries ripening — the green slowly turning to yellow and the yellow blushing red.

The houses dozed in the dusty gardens with their shutters over their eyes. "Do not disturb us!" they seemed to say. "We rest in the afternoon."

And the starlings hid themselves in the chimneys with their heads under their wings.

Over the Park lay a cloud of sunlight as thick and as golden as syrup. No wind stirred the heavy leaves. The flowers stood up, very still and shiny, as though they were made of metal.

Down by the Lake the benches were empty. The people who usually sat there had gone home out of the heat. Neleus, the little marble statue, looked down at the placid water. No goldfish flirted a scarlettail. They were all sitting under the lily-leaves — using them as umbrellas.

The Lawns spread out like a green carpet, motionless in the sunlight. Except for a single, rhythmic movement, you might have thought that the whole Park was only a painted picture. To and fro, by the big magnolia, the Park Keeper was spearing up rubbish and putting it into a litter-basket.

He stopped his work and looked up as two dogs trotted by.

They had come from Cherry Tree Lane, he knew, for Miss Lark was calling from behind her shutters.

"Andrew! Willoughby! Please come back! Don't go swimming in that dirty Lake! I'll make you some Iced Tea!"

Andrew and Willoughby looked at each other, winked, and trotted on. But as they passed the big magnolia, they started and pulled up sharply. Down they flopped on the grass, panting — with their pink tongues lolling out.

Mary Poppins, neat and prim in her blue skirt and a new hat trimmed with a crimson tulip, looked at them over her knitting. She was sitting bolt upright against the tree, with a plaid rug spread on the lawn around her. Her handbag sat tidily by her side. And above her, from a flowering branch, the parrot umbrella dangled.

She glanced at the two thumping tails and gave a little sniff.

"Put in your tongues and sit up straight! You are not a pair of wolves."

The two dogs sprang at once to attention. And Jane, lying on the lawn, could see they were doing their very best to put their tongues in their cheeks.

"And remember, if you're going swimming," Mary Poppins continued, "to shake yourselves when you come out. Don't come sprinkling us!"

Andrew and Willoughby looked reproachful.

"As though, Mary Poppins," they seemed to say, "we would dream of such a thing!"

"All right, then. Be off with you!" And they sped away like shots from a gun.

"Come back!" Miss Lark cried anxiously.

But nobody took any notice.

"Why can't I swim in the Park Lake?" asked Michael in a smothered voice. He was lying face downwards in the grass watching a family of ants.

"You're not a dog!" Mary Poppins reminded him.

"I know, Mary Poppins. But if I were—" Was she smiling or not? — he couldn't be sure, with his nose pressed into the earth.

"Well — what would you do?" she enquired, with a sniff.

He wanted to say that if he were a dog he would do just as he liked — swim or not, as the mood took him, without asking leave of anyone. But what if her face was looking fierce! Silence was best, he decided.

"Nothing!" he said in a meek voice. "It's too hot to argue, Mary Poppins!"

"Out of nothing comes nothing!" She tossed her head in its tulip hat. "And I'm not arguing, I'm talking!" She was having the last word, as usual.

The sunlight caught her knitting-needles as it shone through the broad magnolia leaves on the little group below. John and Barbara, leaning their heads on each other's shoulders, were dozing and waking, waking and dozing. Annabel was fast asleep in Mary Poppins' shadow. Light and darkness dappled them all and splotched the face of the Park Keeper as he dived at a piece of newspaper.

"All litter to be placed in the baskets! Obey the rules!" he said sternly.

Mary Poppins looked him up and down. Her glance would have withered an oak-tree.

"That's not my litter," she retorted.

"Oh?" he said disbelievingly.

"No!" she replied, with a virtuous snort.

"Well, someone must 'ave put it there. It doesn't grow — like roses!"

He pushed his cap to the back of his head and mopped behind his ears. What with the heat, and her tone of voice, he was feeling quite depressed.

"'Ot weather we're 'avin'!" he remarked, eyeing her nervously. He looked like an eager, lonely dog.

"That's what we expect in the middle of summer!" Her knitting-needles clicked.

The Park Keeper sighed and tried again.

"I see you brought yer parrot!" he said, glancing up at the black silk shape that hung among the leaves.

"You mean my parrot-headed umbrella," she haughtily corrected him.

He gave a little anxious laugh. "You don't think it's goin' to rain, do you? With all this sun about?"

"I don't think, I know," she told him calmly. "And if I," she went on, "were a Park Keeper, I wouldn't be wasting half the day like some people I could mention! There's a piece of orange peel over there — why don't you pick it up?"

She pointed with her knitting-needle and kept it pointed accusingly while he speared up the offending litter and tossed it into a basket.

"If she was me," he said to himself, "there'd be no Park at all. Only a nice tidy desert!" He fanned his face with his cap.

"And anyway," he said aloud, "it's no fault of mine I'm a Park Keeper. I should 'ave been a Nexplorer by rights, away in foreign parts. If I'd 'ad me way I wouldn't be 'ere. I'd be sittin' on a piece of ice along with a Polar Bear!"

He sighed and leaned upon his stick, falling into a daydream.

"Humph!" said Mary Poppins loudly. And a startled dove in the tree above her ruffled its wing in surprise.

A feather came slowly drifting down. Jane stretched out her hand and caught it.

"How deliciously it tickles!" she murmured, running the grey edge over her nose. Then she tucked the feather above her brow and bound her ribbon round it.

"I'm the daughter of an Indian Chief. Minnehaha, Laughing Water, gliding along the river."

"Oh, no, you're not," contradicted Michael. "You're Jane Caroline Banks."

"That's only my outside," she insisted. "Inside I'm somebody quite different. It's a very funny feeling."

"You should have eaten a bigger lunch. Then you wouldn't have funny feelings. And Daddy's not an Indian Chief, so you can't be Minnehaha!"

He gave a sudden start as he spoke and peered more closely into the grass.

"There he goes!" he shouted wildly, wriggling forward on his stomach and thumping with his toes.

"I'll thank you, Michael," said Mary Poppins, "to stop kicking my shins. What are you — a Performing Horse?"

"Not a horse, a hunter, Mary Poppins! I'm tracking in the jungle!"

"Jungles!" scoffed the Park Keeper. "My vote is for snowy wastes!"

"If you're not careful, Michael Banks, you'll be tracking home to bed. I never knew such a silly pair. And you're the third," snapped Mary Poppins, eyeing the Park Keeper. "Always wanting to be something else instead of what you are. If it's not Miss Minnie-what's-her-name, it's this or that or the other. You're as bad as the Goose-girl and the Swineherd!"

"But it isn't geese or swine I'm after. It's a lion, Mary Poppins. He may be only an ant on the outside but inside — ah, at last, I've got him! — inside he's a man-eater!"

Michael rolled over, red in the face, holding something small and black between his finger and thumb.

"Jane," he began in an eager voice. But the sentence was never finished. For Jane was making signs to him, and as he turned to Mary Poppins he understood their meaning.

Her knitting had fallen on to the rug and her hands lay folded in her lap. She was looking at something far away, beyond the Lane, beyond the Park, perhaps beyond the horizon.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her, the children crept to her side. The Park Keeper plumped himself down on the rug and stared at her, goggle-eyed.

"Yes, Mary Poppins?" prompted Jane. "The Goose-girl — tell us about her!"

Michael pressed against her skirt and waited expectantly. He could feel her legs, bony and strong, beneath the cool blue linen.

From under the shadow of her hat she glanced at them for a short moment, and looked away again.

"Well, there she sat—" she began gravely, speaking in the soft accents that were so unlike her usual voice.

"There she sat, day after day, amid her flock of geese, braiding her hair and unbraiding it for lack of something to do. Sometimes she would pick a fern and wave it before her like a fan, the way the Lord Chancellor's wife might do, or even the Queen, maybe.

"Or again, she would weave a necklace of flowers and go to the brook to admire it. And every time she did that she noticed that her eyes were blue — bluer than any periwinkle — and her cheeks like the breast of the robin. As for her mouth — not to mention her nose! — her opinion of these was so high she had no words fit to describe them."

"She sounds like you, Mary Poppins," said Michael. "So terribly pleased with herself!"

Her glance came darting from the horizon and flickered at him fiercely.

"I mean, Mary Poppins—" he began to stammer. Had he broken the thread of the story?

"I mean," he went on flatteringly, "you've got pink cheeks and blue eyes, too. Like lollipops and bluebells."

A slow smile of satisfaction melted her angry look, and Michael gave a sigh of relief as she took up the tale again.

Faster, please!" said Mary Poppins, tapping on the glass panel with the beak of her parrot-headed umbrella.

Jane and Michael had spent the morning at the Barber's shop, and the Dentist's, and because it was late, as a great treat, they were taking a taxi home.

The Taxi Man stared straight before him and gave his head a shake.

"If I go any faster," he shouted, "it'll make me late for me dinner."

"Why?" demanded Jane, through the window. It seemed such a silly thing to say. Surely, the quicker a Taxi Man drove the earlier he would arrive!

"Why?" echoed the Taxi Man, keeping his eye on the wheel. "A Naccident — that's why! If I go any faster, I'll run into something — and that'll be a Naccident. And a Naccident — it's plain enough! — will make me late for me dinner. Oh, dear!" he exclaimed, as he put on the brake. "Red again, I see!"

He turned and put his head through the window. His bulgy eyes and drooping whiskers made him look like a seal.

"There's always trouble at these 'ere signals!" He waved his hand at the stream of cars all waiting for the lights to change.

And now it was Michael who asked him why.

"Don't you know nothing?" the Taxi Man cried. "It's because of the chap on duty!"

He pointed to the signal-box, where a helmeted figure, with his head on his hand, was gazing into the distance.

"Absent-minded — that's what 'e is. Always staring and moping. And 'alf the time 'e forgets the lights. I've known them stay red for a whole morning. If it's goin' to be like that today I'll never get me dinner. You 'aven't got a sangwidge on you?" He looked at Michael, hopefully. "No? Nor yet a chocolate drop?" Jane smiled and shook her head.

The Taxi Man sighed despondently.

"Nobody thinks of nobody these days."

"I'm thinking of someone!" said Mary Poppins. And she looked so stern and disapproving that he turned away in dismay.

"They're green!" he cried, as he looked at the lights. And, huddling nervously over the wheel, he drove along Park Avenue as though pursued by wolves.

Bump! Bump! Rattle! Rattle! The three of them jolted and bounced on their seats.

"Sit up straight!" said Mary Poppins, sliding into a corner. "You are not a couple of Jack-in-the-boxes!"

"I know I'm not," said Michael, gasping. "But I feel like one and my bones are shaking—" He gulped quickly and bit his tongue and left the sentence unfinished. For the taxi had stopped with a frightful jerk and flung them all to the floor.

"Mary Poppins," said Jane in a muffled voice, "I think you're sitting on me!"

"My foot! My foot! It's caught in something!"

"I'll thank you, Michael," said Mary Poppins, "to take it out of my hat!"

She rose majestically from the floor, and seizing her parrot-headed umbrella sprang out on to the pavement.

"Well, you said to go faster," the Taxi Man muttered, as she thrust the fare into his hand. She glared at him in offended silence. And in order to escape that look he shrank himself down inside his collar so that nothing was left but his whiskers.

"Don't bother about a tip," he begged. "It's really been a p-p-pleasure."

"I had no intention of bothering!" She opened the gate of Number Seventeen with an angry flick of her hand.

The Taxi Man started up his engine and jerked away down the Lane. "She's upset me, that's what she's done!" he murmured. "If I do get home in time for me dinner I shan't be able to eat it!"

Mary Poppins tripped up the path, followed by Jane and Michael.

Mrs. Banks stood in the front hall, looking up at the stairs.

"Oh, do be careful, Robertson Ay!" she was saying anxiously. He was carrying a cardboard box and lurching slowly from stair to stair as though he were almost asleep.

"Never a moment's peace!" he muttered. "First it's one thing, then another. There!" He gave a sleepy heave, thrust the package into the nursery and fell in a snoring heap on the landing.

Jane dashed upstairs to look at the label.

"What's in it — a present?" shouted Michael.

The Twins, bursting with curiosity, were jumping up and down. And Annabel peered through her cot railings and banged her rattle loudly.

"Is this a nursery or a bear-pit?" Mary Poppins stepped over Robertson Ay as she hurried into the room.

"A bear-pit!" Michael longed to answer. But he caught her eye and refrained.

"Really!" Mrs. Banks protested, as she stumbled over Robertson Ay. "He chooses such inconvenient places! Oh, gently, children! Do be careful! That box belongs to Miss Andrew!"

Miss Andrew! Their faces fell.

"Then it isn't presents!" said Michael blankly. He gave the box a push.

"It's probably full of medicine bottles!" said Jane, in a bitter voice.

"It's not," insisted Mrs. Banks. "Miss Andrew has sent us all her treasures. And I thought, Mary Poppins" — she glanced at the stiff white shape beside her—"I thought, perhaps, you could keep them here!" She nodded towards the mantelpiece.

Mary Poppins regarded her in silence. If a pin had fallen you could have heard it.

"Am I an octopus?" she enquired, finding her voice at last.

"An octopus?" cried Mrs. Banks. Had she ever suggested such a thing? "Of course you're not, Mary Poppins."

"Exactly!" Mary Poppins retorted. "I have only one pair of hands."

Mrs. Banks nodded uneasily. She had never expected her to have more.

"And that one pair has enough to do without dusting anyone's treasures."

"But Mary Poppins, I never dreamed—" Mrs. Banks was getting more and more flustered. "Ellen is here to do the dusting. And it's only until Miss Andrew comes back — if, of course, she ever does. She behaved so strangely when she was here. Why are you giggling, Jane?"

But Jane only snickered and shook her head. She remembered that strange behaviour!

"Where has she gone to?" Michael asked.

It's dod fair!" grumbled Michael.

He pressed his nose to the window-pane and sniffed a tear away. And, as if to taunt him, a gust of rain rattled against the glass.

All day the storm had raged. And Michael, because he had a cold, was not allowed to go out. Jane and the Twins had put on gum-boots and gone to play in the Park. Even Annabel, wrapped in a mackintosh, had sailed off under the parrot umbrella, looking as proud as a queen.

Oh, how lonely Michael felt! It was Ellen's Day Out. His mother had gone shopping. Mrs. Brill was down in the kitchen. And Robertson Ay, up in the attic, was asleep in a cabin trunk.

"Get up and play in your dressing-gown. But don't put a toe outside the nursery!" Mary Poppins had warned him.

So there he was, all by himself, with nothing to do but grumble. He built a castle with his blocks, but it tumbled down when he blew his nose. He tried cutting his hair with his penknife, but the blade was far too blunt. And at last there was nothing left to do but breathe on the rainy window-pane and draw a picture there.

The nursery clock ticked the day away. The weather grew wetter and Michael grew crosser.

But then, at sunset, the clouds lifted and a line of crimson shone from the West. Everything glittered in rain and sun. Rat-tat-tat — on the black umbrellas, the cherry-trees dropped their weight of water. The shouts of Jane and John and Barbara floated up to the window. They were playing leapfrog over the gutters on their way home from the Park.

Admiral Boom came splashing past, looking like a shiny sunflower in his big yellow sou'wester.

The Ice Cream Man trundled along the lane, with a waterproof cape spread over his tricycle. And in front of it the notice said:

DON'T STOP ME

Rattle! Rattle! Rattle!

Clank! Clank! Clank!

Up and down went the lawn-mower, leaving stripes of newly-cut grass in its wake.

Behind it panted the Park Keeper, pushing with all his might. At the end of each stripe he paused for a moment to glance round the Park and make sure that everybody was observing the rules.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spied a large net waving backwards and forwards behind the laurels.

"Benjamin!" he called warningly. "Benjamin Winkle, remember the bye-laws!"

The Keeper of the Zoological Gardens thrust his head round a clump of leaves and put his finger to his lips. He was a small, nervous-looking man, with a beard like a ham-frill fringing his face.

"Sh!" he whispered. "I'm after an Admiral!"

"A n'Admiral? Well, you won't find 'im in a laurel bush. 'E's over there, at the end of the Lane. Big 'ouse, with a telescope on the flagpole."

"I mean a Red Admiral!" hissed the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens.

"Well, 'e's red enough for anything. Got a face like a stormy sunset!"

"It's not a man I'm after, Fred." The Keeper of the Zoological Gardens gave the Park Keeper a look of solemn reproach. "I'm catching butterflies for the Insect House and all I've got" — he glanced dejectedly into his net—"is one Cabbage White."

"Cabbage?" cried the Park Keeper, rattling off down the lawn. "If you want a cabbage, I've some in my garden. H'artichokes, too. And turnips! Fine day, Egbert!" he called to the Policeman, who was taking a short-cut through the Park, in the course of his daily duties.

"Might be worse," the Policeman agreed, glancing up at the windows of Number Seventeen, in the hope of catching a glimpse of Ellen.

He sighed. "And might be better!" he added glumly. For Ellen was nowhere to be seen.

Rattle, rattle. Clank, clank.

The sunlight spangled the stripy lawn and spread like a fan over Park and Lane. It even went so far as to shine on the Fair Ground, and the swinging-boats and the merry-go-round and the big blue banner with MUDGE'S FAIR printed on it in gold.

The Park Keeper paused at the end of a stripe and sent a hawk-like glance about him.

A fat man with a face like a poppy was sauntering through the little gate that led from the Fair. He had a bowler hat on the back of his head and a large cigar in his mouth.

"Keep Off the Grass!" the Park Keeper called to him.

"I wasn't on it!" retorted the fat man, with a look of injured innocence.

"Well, I'm just givin' you a Word of Warnin'. All litter to be placed in the baskets — especially, Mr. Mudge, in the Fair Ground!"

"Mr. Smith," said the fat man in a fat confident voice. "If you find so much as a postage stamp when the Fair's over, I'll — well, I'll be surprised. You'll be able to eat your dinner off that Fair Ground or my name's not Willie Mudge."

And he stuck his thumbs into the armholes of his jacket and swaggered off, looking very important.

"Last year," the Park Keeper shouted after him, "I swept up sacks of postage stamps! And I don't eat me dinner there. I go 'ome for it!"

He turned to his work again with a sigh and the lawn-mower went up and down with a steady, sleepy drone. At the last stripe, where the lawn ended in the Rose Garden, he glanced cautiously round. Now was the moment, he felt, if there was nobody about to report him to the Lord Mayor, to take a little rest.

The Rose Garden was a ring of rose-beds enclosing a little green space. In the middle was a pool and in the pool stood a fountain of white marble shaped like an open rose.

The Park Keeper peered through the flowering bushes. There, by the fountain, lay Jane and Michael. And just beyond the Rose Garden, on a marble seat, sat an elderly gentleman. He seemed to have forgotten his hat, for his bald head was sheltered from the sun by a peaked cap made of newspaper. His nose was deep in an enormous book, which he was reading with the aid of a magnifying-glass. He muttered to himself as he turned the pages.

Jane and Michael, too, had a book. And Jane's voice mingled with the sound of the fountain as she read aloud to Michael. It was a peaceful scene.

"Quiet for once," the Park Keeper murmured. "I shall just snatch Forty Winks!" And he lay down cautiously among the bushes hoping that if anyone passed they would mistake him for a rose.

Had he looked in the other direction he might have thought better of behaving so recklessly. For, away under the wistarias, pushing the perambulator backwards and forwards in a rhythmic, soothing movement, was Mary Poppins.

Creak, creak, went the wheels.

Whimper, whimper, went Annabel, who was cutting her first tooth.

"Shoo now! Shoo now!" murmured Mary Poppins, in an absent-minded voice.

She was thinking about her new pink blouse, with the lace-edged handkerchief stuck in the pocket. How nicely it harmonised, she thought, with the tulip in her hat. And she could not help wishing there were more people in the Park to appreciate the spectacle. On every bench and under every tree there should have been an admiring onlooker. "There's that charming Miss Poppins," she imagined them saying, "always so neat and respectable!"

But there were only a few scattered strangers hurrying along the paths and taking no notice of anybody.

She could see the Policeman forlornly gazing up at the windows of Number Seventeen. And the fat man with the large cigar who, in spite of all the Park Keeper's warnings, was walking on the grass. She prinked a little as Bert, the Match Man, biting into a rosy apple, came sauntering through the Gate. Perhaps he was looking for her, she thought, smoothing her neat black gloves.

She could also see Miss Lark, whose two dogs were taking her for an afternoon run. They rushed down the Long Walk laughing and barking, while Miss Lark, with the two leads in her hands, came tumbling behind. Her hat was over one ear and her scarf flapped about like a flag in the breeze. Gloves and spectacles scattered from her, and her necklaces and beads and bracelets were swinging in all directions.

Mary Poppins sniffed. Miss Lark, she thought, was not so tidy as somebody she could mention! She smiled a small self-satisfied smile and went on rocking Annabel.

Now that the lawn-mower was silent there was hardly a sound in the Park. Only the music of the fountain and Jane's voice coming to the end of a story.

"So that," she concluded, "was the end of the Witch. And the King and the Maiden were married next day and lived happily ever after."

Michael sighed contentedly and nibbled a leaf of clover.

Away beyond the Rose Garden, the elderly gentleman took off his glasses, spread his handkerchief over his face and dozed on the marble seat.

"Go on, Jane. Don't stop!" urged Michael. "Read another one."

Jane turned the pages of The Silver Fairy Book. It was worn and faded, for its life had been long and busy. Once it had belonged to Mrs. Banks, and before that it had been given to her mother by her mother. Many of the pictures had disappeared and the drawings had all been coloured with crayons, either by Jane and Michael or by their mother. Perhaps, even, by their Grandmother, too.

"It's so hard to choose," Jane murmured, for she loved every one of the stories.

"Well, read wherever it falls open — the way you always do!"

She closed the book, held it between her hands for a second, and then let it go. With a little thud it fell on the grass and opened right in the middle.

"Hooray!" said Michael. "It's The Three Princes." And he settled himself to listen.

"Once upon a time," read Jane, "there lived a King who had three sons. The eldest was Prince Florimond, the second Prince Veritain, and the third Prince Amor. Now, it so happened that—"

"Let me see the picture!" interrupted Michael.

It was a drawing he particularly liked, for he and Jane had coloured it one rainy afternoon. The Princes were standing at the edge of a forest and the branches that spread above their heads bore fruit and flowers together. A saddled Unicorn stood beside them, with its rein looped round the arm of the eldest.

Prince Florimond was in green crayon with a purple cap. Prince Veritain had an orange jerkin and his cap was scarlet. And little Prince Amor was all in blue, with a golden dagger stuck in his belt. Chrome-coloured ringlets fell about the shoulders of the two elder brothers. And the youngest, who was bareheaded, had a yellow circlet of short curls, rather like a crown.

As for the Unicorn, he was silvery white from mane to tail — except for his eyes, which were the colour of forget-me-nots; and his horn, which was striped with red and black.

Jane and Michael gazed down at the page and smiled at the pictured children. And the three Princes smiled up from the book and seemed to lean forward from the forest.

Michael sighed. "If only I had a dagger like Amor's. It would just be about my size."

A breeze rustled the trees of the Park and the coloured drawing seemed to tremble.

"I never can choose between Florimond and Veritain," Jane murmured. "They are both so beautiful."

The fountain gave a laughing ripple and an echo of laughter seemed to come from the book.

"I'll lend it to you!" said the youngest Prince, whipping the dagger from his belt.

"Why not choose us both?" cried the two eldest, stepping forward on to the lawn.

Jane and Michael caught their breath. What had happened? Had the painted forest come to the Park? Or was it that the Rose Garden had gone into the picture? Are we there? Are they here? Which is which? they asked themselves, and could not give an answer.

"Don't you know us, Jane?" asked Florimond, smiling.

"Yes, of course!" she gasped. "But — how did you get here?"

"Didn't you see?" asked Veritain. "You smiled at us and we smiled at you. And the picture looked so shiny and bright — you and Michael and the painted roses—"

"So we jumped right into the story!" Amor concluded gaily.

"Out of it, you mean!" cried Michael. "We're not a story. We're real people. It's you who are the pictures!"

The Princes tossed their curls and laughed.

"Touch me!" said Florimond.

"Take my hand!" urged Veritain.

"Here's my dagger!" cried Amor.

Michael took the golden weapon. It was sharp and solid and warm from Amor's body.

"Who's real now?" Amor demanded. "Tuck it into your belt," he said, smiling at Michael's astonished face.

"You see — I was right!" said Florimond, as Jane put one hand on his sleeve and the other in Veritain's outstretched palm. She felt the warmth of both and nodded.

"But—" she protested. "How can it be? You are in Once Upon a Time. And that is long ago."

"Oh, no!" said Veritain. "It's always. Do you remember your great-great-great-great-grandmother?"

"Of course not. I am much too young."

"We do," said Florimond, with a smile. "And what about your great-great-great-great-grand-daughter? Will you ever see her, do you think?"

Jane shook her head a little wistfully. That charming far-away little girl — how much she would like to know her!

"We shall," said Veritain confidently.

"But how? You're the children in the story!"

Florimond laughed and shook his head.

"You are the children in the story! We've read about you so often, Jane, and looked at the picture and longed to know you. So today — when the book fell open — we simply walked in. We come once into everyone's story — the grand-parents and the grandchildren are all the same to us. But most people take no notice." He sighed. "Or if they do, they forget very quickly. Only a few remember."

Jane's hand tightened on his sleeve. She felt she would never forget him, not if she lived to be forty.

"Oh, don't waste time explaining," begged Amor. "We want to explore the picture!"

"We'll lead the way!" cried Michael eagerly, as he seized Amor by the hand. He hardly cared whether he was a real boy or a boy in a story, so long as the golden dagger lay snugly in his belt.

"We'll follow!" cried Veritain, running behind them.

Florimond gave a piercing whistle and tugged at the rein on his arm.

Immediately, as if from nowhere, the Unicorn appeared at his side. Florimond patted the silky neck and, moving off beside Jane, he glanced about him eagerly.

"Look, brothers — over there is the Lake! Do you see Neleus with his Dolphin? And that must be Number Seventeen. We never could see it clearly before," he explained to Jane and Michael. "In the picture it's hidden behind the trees."

"H'm — a very small house," said Amor, gazing.

"But it's solid and friendly," said Veritain kindly.

"And the grounds are very extensive." Florimond made a sweeping gesture and bent to sniff at a rose.

"Now, now! Wot are you doin'!" The Park Keeper, roused from his Forty Winks, sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Observe the rules," he grumbled, stretching. "No pickin' of flowers allowed."

"I wasn't picking. I was just smelling. Though, of course," said Florimond politely, "I would like to have a rose from Jane's garden. As a souvenir, you know!"

"Jane's garden?" The Park Keeper stared. "This is no garden. It's a Public Park. And it don't belong to Jane. Souveneer, indeed!" he spluttered. "'Oo do you think you are?"

"Oh, I don't think — I know!" the Prince replied. "I am Florimond, the King's eldest son. These are my brothers — don't you remember? And our task is to fight the Dragon."

The Park Keeper's eyes nearly dropped from his head.

"King's eldest—? Dragon? No dragons allowed in the Public Parks. And no horses, neither!" he added, as his eyes fell on the silvery hooves that were lightly pawing the lawn.

A peal of laughter burst from Amor.

Jane and Michael giggled.

"That's not a horse," Veritain protested. "Can't you see? He's a Unicorn!"

"Now, now!" The Park Keeper heaved to his feet. "I ought to know a Norse when I see one and that's a Norse or I'm a — Lumme!"

The milk-white creature raised its head.

"It is! It is a Unycorn! 'Orn and all — just like a picture, I never saw such a thing before — at least—" The Park Keeper wrinkled up his brow as though he were trying to remember something. "No, no," he murmured, "I couldn't have! Not even when I was a boy. A Unycorn! I must make a report. Winkle, where are you? 'Ere, you boys—" He turned to the astonished Princes. "You 'old 'im quiet till I get back. Don't let 'im go woteveryou do!"

And off he went, leaping over the flower-beds. "'Orn and all!" they heard him shouting, as he darted among the laurels.

The Princes, their eyes round with surprise, gazed after his disappearing figure.

"Your gardener seems very excitable," said Florimond to Jane.

She was just about to explain that the Park Keeper was not their gardener, when a shrill voice interrupted her.

"Wait! Wait! Not so fast! My arms are nearly out of their sockets. Oh, what shall I do? There goes my scarf!"

Into the Rose Garden plunged Miss Lark, with the two dogs straining at their leads. Her hat was wobbling dangerously and her hair hung in wisps around her face.

"Oh, goodness! There they go again! Andrew! Willoughby! Do come back!"

But the dogs merely laughed. They tugged the leathers from her hands and, bounding gaily towards the Princes, they leapt up at Amor.

"Oh, Jane! Oh, Michael!" Miss Lark panted. "Do help me, please, to catch the dogs. I don't like them talking to strangers. Look at that queer boy kissing Andrew! He may have a cold and the dogs will catch it. Who are these children? What very odd clothes! And their hair is much too long!"

"This is Florimond," said Jane politely.

"This is Veritain," added Michael.

"And this is Amor!" said Amor, laughing, as he kissed Willoughby's nose.

"Peculiar names!" exclaimed Miss Lark. "And yet—" Her face had a puzzled expression. "I seem to have heard them before. Where can it have been? In a pantomime?"

She peered at the Princes and shook her head. "They're foreigners, without a doubt. And what have they got there — a donkey? Gracious!" She gave a shriek of surprise. "It can't be! Yes! No! Yes — it is! A Unicorn — how wonderful!"

She clasped her hands in ecstasy and trilled away like a lark. "Horn and all! A Unicorn! But why isn't somebody looking after it?"

"We are looking after him," said Florimond calmly.

"Nonsense! Ridiculous! Absurd! He should be in charge of responsible people. I shall go myself to the British Museum and find the Chief Professor. Andrew and Willoughby, leave that boy and come along with Mother! Quickly, quickly!" She seized the leads. "We must go at once for help!"

The two dogs exchanged a wink and dashed away at full speed.

"Oh, not so quickly as that," cried Miss Lark. "You will have me head-over-heels. Oh, dear, oh, dear — there goes my bracelet! Never mind!" she called over her shoulder, as Veritain stooped to pick it up. "Keep it! I've no time to waste!"

And off she stumbled behind the dogs with her hair and necklaces flying.

"Officer!" they heard her calling to the Policeman. "There's a Unicorn in the Rose Garden. Be sure you don't let him escape!"

"Escape?" said Amor. "But why should he want to! He'd never be happy away from us."

He smiled lovingly at Michael as the Unicorn thrust his head between them and tickled their cheeks with his mane.

"A Unicorn!" The Policeman stared. "Miss Lark's gettin' queerer and queerer!" he muttered, as he watched her fluttering down the path. "'Ere! Look where you're going, Mr. Mudge! You can't do that to the Law."

For a large fat man had bumped into him and was breathlessly hurrying by. The Policeman seized him by the arm.

"A Unicorn, the old girl said!" Mr. Mudge panted heavily.

"A Unicorn?" cried the passing strangers. "We don't believe it! We must write to The Times!"

"Of course, I know there's no sich thing. Somebody's having a bit of a joke." Mr. Mudge mopped his poppy cheeks. "But I thought as I'd go and see."

"Well, you go quietly," the Policeman advised him. "And treat the Law with respect."

He released Mr. Mudge's arm and strode on ahead of him.

"Come, let us go deeper into the picture," Florimond was saying. He took Jane gently by the hand and Veritain came to her other side.

"Hurry up, Michael! Let's try the swings. And then we can paddle in the Lake." Amor gave a tug to Michael's hand. "But who are all these people?"

The five children glanced about them. The Park, which had been so quiet before, was now filled with flying figures, all racing towards the Rose Garden and shouting as they came. The Policeman stalked along before them with big important strides.

As the children turned to leave the garden, his large blue body barred the way.

He gave one glance at the Unicorn and his eyebrows went up to the edge of his helmet.

"Miss Lark was right, after all," he muttered. Then he eyed the Princes sternly.

"Might I h'ask what you think you're up to — disturbing the peace in a public place? And I'd like to know how you three tinkers got hold of that there animal!"

"They're not tinkers!" protested Michael. He was shocked at the Policeman's words. Couldn't he see who they were?

"Gypsies, then. You can tell by their clothes. Too gaudy for respectable people."

"But don't you remember them?" cried Jane. She was fond of the Policeman and wanted him not to make a mistake.

"Never saw them before in my life." He took out his notebook and pencil. "Now, I want a few pertick-elers. Honesty's the best policy, lads, so speak up clearly and state the facts. First of all, where do you come from?"

"Nowhere!" giggled Amor.

"Everywhere!" said Veritain.

"East of the Sun and West of the Moon," Florimond added gravely.

"Now, now! This won't do. I asked a plain question and I want a plain answer. Where do you live? What place on the map?"

"Oh, it's not on the map," said Florimond. "But it's easy to find if you really want to. You only have to wish."

"No fixed address," the Policeman murmured, writing in his notebook. "You see! They're gypsies — just like I said. Now then, young man — your father's name!"

"Fidelio," answered Florimond.

"Mother's name?" The Law gave his pencil a careful lick.

"Esperanza," Veritain told him. "With a 'Z'," he added helpfully, for the Policeman, it seemed, was not a good speller.

"Aunts?" enquired the Policeman again, laboriously writing.

"Oh, we have hundreds." Amor grinned. "Cinderella, Snow White, Badroulbador, the White Cat, Little-Two-Eyes, Baba Yaga — and, of course, the Sleeping Beauty."

"Sleeping Beauty—" the Policeman murmured.

Then he looked at the words he had written and glanced up angrily.

"You're making a mock of the Law!" he cried. "The Sleeping Beauty wasn't nobody's aunt. She was somebody in a book. Now, see here! Since you boys refuse to give me h'information in h'accordance with the h'regulations, it is my duty to take that animal in charge."

He stepped forward resolutely.

The Unicorn gave an angry snort and flung up his hind legs.

"'Ands off! 'Ands off!" yelled the Park Keeper, as he flung himself across the roses and pushed the Policeman aside.

"There 'e is, Ben!" he cried in triumph, as the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens, nervously waving his butterfly net, came tip-toeing into the Rose Garden.

"'Orn and all — just like I told yer!" The Park Keeper reached for the silver bridle and immediately turned a back somersault.

For the Unicorn had lowered his head and swung his horn against him.

"E-e-eh! Oh! O-o-o-h!" The Keeper of the Zoological Gardens, with a frightened yelp, took refuge behind the Policeman.

"Dear me, is he dangerous? Does he bite? That horn looks very sharp!"

"It's sharp and solid, Benjamin!" The Park Keeper ruefully rubbed his stomach.

"He's gentle and good," Florimond protested. "But he isn't used to strangers."

"H'm. Well, you'd better bring him along to the Zoo and settle him down in a cage."

"A cage! Oh, no," cried Jane and Michael, angrily stamping their feet.

And the Unicorn, as though in agreement, drummed with his hooves on the lawn.

"But what would he do in a cage?" asked Amor, his eyes wide with interest.

"Do?" echoed the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens. "He'd do what the other animals do — just stand there to be looked at!"

"Oh, he wouldn't like that," put in Veritain quickly. "He's used to being quite free. Besides," he added, smiling politely, "he belongs to us, you know!"

"Free!" The Policeman shook his fist. "Nobody's free to kick at the Law!"

"Whoa there!" cried the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens.

"I won't whoa there!" the Policeman shouted. "I'm only doing what's right!"

"I was talking to him," murmured Mr. Winkle. And he pointed to the Unicorn who was dancing madly on all four feet.

"Now then," he cooed, "be a good little Dobbin. And we'll get him some hay and a nice clean house next door to the Hippopotamus!"

The Unicorn gave his tail a twitch and lashed it at Mr. Winkle. It was quite clear that he had no intention of living anywhere near a hippopotamus.

"Don't coax 'im, Benjamin, just take 'im!" The Park Keeper gave his friend a push.

"Oh, no! Not yet! Wait just one minute!"

Miss Lark's voice sounded shriller than ever as she hurried back to the scene. In one hand she held up her tattered skirt and with the other she dragged along an elderly gentleman in a newspaper hat. He was carrying a large book and a magnifying-glass and looking very bewildered.

"So fortunate!" Miss Lark panted. "I found the Professor asleep on a bench. There now, Professor—" She flung out her hand. "Do you still say you don't believe me?"

"Don't believe what?" the Professor mumbled.

"Tch! Tch! I've told you a dozen times. I've found a Unicorn!"

"Indeed?" The Professor fumbled in his pockets till at length he found his spectacles and fixed them on his nose.

"Er — what was it, dear lady, I had to look at?" He seemed to have quite forgotten what he wanted his spectacles for.

Miss Lark sighed.

"The Unicorn!" she answered patiently.

The Professor blinked and turned his head.

"Well, well! Er — hum! Extraordinary!"

He leaned forward for a closer look and the Unicorn made a thrust with his head and prodded the Professor with the end of his horn.

"You're right!" The Professor toppled backwards. "It is—ah — hum — a Unicorn!"

"Of course it is!" scoffed the Park Keeper. "We don't need nobody in a paper 'at to tell us that bit o' news."

The Professor took not the slightest notice. He was turning the pages of his book and waving the magnifying-glass.

"O.P.Q.R.S.T.U. Ah, here it is! Yes. A fabulous beast. Rarely — if ever! — seen by man. Reputed to be worth a city—"

"A city!" exclaimed the Policeman, staring. "A horse with a bit o' bone on his head!"

"Distinguishing marks—" the Professor gabbled. "White body, tail of similar hue, and a broad brow from which a horn—"

"Yes, yes, Professor," Miss Lark broke in. "We know what he looks like. You needn't tell us. The question is — what shall we do with him?"

"Do?" The Professor looked over the top of his glasses. "There's only one thing to be done, madam. We must arrange to — ah — have him stuffed!"

"Stuffed?" Miss Lark gave a little gasp. She glanced uneasily at the Unicorn and he gave her a long, reproachful stare.

"Stuffed!" cried Jane in a horrified voice.

"Stuffed!" echoed Michael, squeakily. He could hardly bear to think of it.

The Princes shook their golden heads. Their eyes as they gazed at the Professor were grave and full of pity.

"Stuffed? Stuff and nonsense!" said a raucous voice, as Mr. Mudge, looking redder than ever, came lumbering into the Rose Garden. "Nobody's going to stuff an animal that might be of use to Mudge. Where is it?" he demanded loudly.

His bulgy eyes grew bulgier still as they fell on the silver shape.

"Well, I never!" He whistled softly. "Cleverest dodge I ever saw. Somebody's glued a horn on a horse! My word — what a sideshow this will make! Who's in charge of the beast?"

"We are," said Florimond, Veritain and Amor.

Mr. Mudge turned and surveyed the Princes.

"Out of the Circus, I see!" He grinned. "What are you — acrobats?"

The Princes smiled and shook their heads.

"Well, you can come along with the nag. Those velvet jackets are just the thing. Three meals a day and oats for the horse. And I'll bill you as Mudge's Unicorn and his Three Servants. Hey, back up, Neddy — look what you're doing!"

Mr. Mudge jumped sideways just in time to escape a nip from the Unicorn's teeth.

"Here, tighten that rein!" he shouted sharply. "Take care! He's got a nasty temper!"

"Oh, no he hasn't," said Florimond quickly. "But he doesn't care to be part of a sideshow."

"And we're not his servants," said Veritain.

"It's the other way round!" Amor added.

"Now, I want no sauciness, my lads! Just bring him along and behave yourselves. We've got to get him settled down before the Fair opens."

The Unicorn tossed his silver mane.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Mudge! But that Unicorn belongs to the Zoo!"

Thump! went the Unicorn's horn on the lawn.

"Nonsense — er — hum!" the Professor exclaimed. "He must go with me to the British Museum. And stand — ah — hum — on a pedestal for all the world to see."

"The world can see him in his cage," said Mr. Winkle stubbornly.

"At the Fair, you mean!" Mr. Mudge insisted. "The Only Unicorn in the World! Money back if not satisfied. Roll up! Roll up! Sixpence a look!"

"He belongs to the Princes!" shouted Michael.

But nobody took any notice.

The Park was ringing with many voices. People came running from all directions, all giving different advice.

"Get him a halter! Hobble his legs! Bind him! Hold him! Put him in chains!"

And the Unicorn lashed out with his hooves and swung his horn around like a sword and kept them all at a distance.

"He belongs to the Law!" the Policeman roared, taking out his baton.

"To Mudge's Fair!" cried Mr. Mudge. "Children Half-Price! Babies Free!"

"To the Zoo!" squeaked the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens, waving his net in the air.

"What's going on — an accident?" Bert, the Match Man, pushed through the crowd and sauntered into the Rose Garden.

At the sight of his calm and cheerful face, Jane gave a sigh of relief.

"Oh, help us, please!" She ran to him. "They're trying to take the Unicorn."

"The what?" said the Match Man, very surprised. He glanced at the little group by the fountain and gave a sudden start. A look of joy spread over his face as he sprang across the lawn.

"Gently, boy, gently! Easy does it!" He seized the Unicorn by the mane and held out the apple he was munching. The Unicorn lowered his tossing head, sniffed enquiringly at the outstretched hand and then, with a sigh of satisfaction, he gobbled up the core.

The Match Man gave him a friendly slap. Then he turned to the Princes with a loving look and, falling upon one knee, kissed Florimond's hand.

There was a sudden silence in the Rose Garden. Everybody stared.

"What's the matter with Bert?" the Park Keeper muttered. "'E must 'ave gorn mad!"

For the Match Man had turned to Veritain and Amor and was kissing their hands, too.

"Welcome, my Princes!" he said softly. "I am happy to see you again!"

"Princes, indeed!" the Policeman exploded. "A set of rascals, that's what they are. I found them loitering in the Park in wrongful possession of a fabbilous animal. And I'm taking it in charge!"

"What, that?" The Match Man glanced at the Unicorn and laughed as he shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to catch him, Egbert. He isn't your sort of animal. And what's a Unicorn, anyway, compared with the three of them?"

He turned to the Princes with outstretched arms.

"They've forgotten us, Bert," said Florimond sadly.

"Well, you won't forget me in a hurry," the Policeman put in grimly. "Move away, Bert, you're obstructing the Law. Now, bring that Unicorn along and follow me, all three!"

"Don't you go, lads," urged Mr. Mudge. "Just slip along to the Fair Ground and you and horsie will be treated proper."

"Oh, come with me, boys!" begged Mr. Winkle. "If I let that Unicorn slip through my fingers, the Head Keeper will never forgive me."

"No!" said Veritain.

"No!" said Amor.

"I am sorry," said Florimond, shaking his head. "But we cannot go with any of you."

"You'll come, if I have to carry you!" The Policeman strode towards the Princes with an angry gleam in his eye.

"Oh, please don't touch them!" Jane cried wildly, flinging herself in his way.

"You leave them alone!" screamed Michael, as he seized the Policeman by the leg.

"'Ooligans!" exclaimed Mr. Mudge. "I never behaved like that!"

"Let me go, Michael!" the Policeman yelled.

"What shocking conduct! How badly brought up!" cried voices in the crowd.

"Professor, Professor, please do something!" Miss Lark's voice rose above the din.

"Such goings on!" murmured Mr. Winkle. "It's worse than the Lion House!"

Michael seized the Policeman by the leg

He turned in terror from the scene and knocked against a moving object that was entering the Rose Garden. A creaking wheel passed over his foot and his net became entangled with a large crimson flower.

"Out of my way!" said Mary Poppins, as she disengaged the net from her hat. "And I'll thank you to remember," she added, "that I'm not a butterfly!"

"I can see that," said the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens, as he dragged his foot from under the wheel.

Mary Poppins gave him an icy glare as she thrust him calmly out of her way and tripped towards the fountain.

At the sight of her neat and dignified figure there was a moment's silence. The crowd gave her a respectful stare. The Match Man took off his cap.

"Good afternoon, Bert!" she said, with a bow. But the ladylike smile froze on her lips as her glance fell upon the children.

"May I ask what you think you're doing, Jane? And you, too, Michael! Let go that Policeman! Is this a garden or a Cannibal Island?"

"A Cannibal Island!" cried the youngest Prince, laughing with joy as he ran towards her. "At last! At last, Mary Poppins!" he murmured, as he flung his arms round her waist.

"Mary Poppins! Mary Poppins!" cried the elder brothers as they leapt together over the fountain and seized her kid-gloved hands.

"Whin-n-n-e-e-e-h-o-o-o!" The Unicorn gave a happy neigh and, trotting daintily towards her, he touched his horn to her black-buttoned shoe.

Mary Poppins' eyes darkened.

"Florimond! Veritain! Amor! What are you doing here?"

"Well, the book fell open—"

"At Jane and Michael's story—"

"So we just jumped into the picture—"

The three Princes hung their heads as they all answered together.

"Then you'd better jump out of it — spit-spot! You're very naughty boys!"

Amor gave her a loving smile.

"And you're a naughty girl!" he retorted. "Going away and leaving us with never a Word of Warning!"

Michael stared. He loosed his hold on the Policeman's leg and ran to Amor.

"Do you know Mary Poppins?" he demanded. "And did she do that to you, too?" He felt rather jealous of his friend. Would he ever be so brave, he wondered, as to call her a naughty girl?

"Of course we know her. And she's always doing it — coming and going without a word. Oh, don't be cross with us, Mary Poppins!" Amor looked up with an impish grin. "I see you've got a new hat!"

A ghost of a smile crept round her mouth, but she changed it into a sniff.

"Your face is dirty, Amor, as usual!"

And whipping out her lace-edged handkerchief she dabbed it quickly against his tongue, gave his cheek a vigorous rub and tucked the handkerchief into his pocket.

"H'm. That's more like it," she said tartly. "Florimond, put your cap on straight. It was always on one side, I remember. And, Veritain, will you never learn? If I've told you once, I've told you twice, to tie your laces with double knots. Just look at your slippers!"

Veritain stooped to his velvet shoes and tied the straggling cords.

"Yes—you remember, Mary Poppins!" Florimond straightened the set of his cap. "But, except for Jane and Michael and Bert, you are the only one. All they want is the Unicorn—" He pointed to the watching crowd. "And they can't even agree about him."

The Unicorn nodded his silver head and his blue eye blazed with wrath.

"Pooh!" Mary Poppins turned up her nose. "What else could you expect — from them? It's their misfortune, Florimond. No fault of yours!"

The Policeman blushed as red as a beetroot beneath her scornful gaze.

"I remember my duty!" he said doggedly.

"I remember the public's entertainment!" Mr. Mudge bristled.

"I remember the Head Keeper!" whispered the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens.

"Wait! I remember something else!" The Park Keeper clapped his hand to his brow.

"'Arf a minute — it's comin' back. I can see me old mother readin' aloud. A silver book. And the cat by the fire. And them—" He flung out a hand to the Princes.

"And them and me goin 'and in 'and. There was flower and fruit on the same branch and a Unycorn trottin' through the forest. Oh, what 'as 'appened?" he cried aloud. "Me 'eart is beatin' the way it used to! I feel like I felt when I was a boy. No litter, no bye-laws, no Lord Mayor, and sausages for supper. Oh, now I remember you, Mister — er — Prince—"

The Park Keeper turned to Florimond. His sombre face had quite changed. It was gleaming with happiness.

"A sooveneer!" he shouted gaily. "Something for you to remember me by!"

And recklessly he dashed at the flower-beds and snapped off three of the largest roses.

"I shall get into trouble, but what do I care? I'm doin' it for you!" With a shy and humble gesture, he thrust the flowers at Florimond.

Grave and glad were Florimond's eyes as he touched the Park Keeper's cheek.

"Thank you." He smiled. "I shall keep them always."

"Aw!" The Park Keeper gave an embarrassed laugh. "You can't do that. They'll fade, you know!"

"Oh, no, they won't!" cried Miss Lark suddenly. "In their country, dear Park Keeper, the roses bloom for ever."

She turned to the Princes eagerly, with her hands against her heart.

"Oh, how could I have forgotten?" she murmured, "It was yesterday — or the day before! I was wearing a pinafore tied at the back—"

"And button-boots," put in Veritain.

"And yellow curls with a blue ribbon," said Amor helpfully. "She does remember!" he cried to his brothers, smiling at Miss Lark.

"And you were everywhere!" she whispered. "Playing beside me in the sunlight, swinging with me on the garden gate. The birds in the tree were you disguised. I stepped over every ant and beetle for fear it might be one of my princes. I meant to marry a King — I remember — or at least a Caliph's younger son. And you three were to be always near me. And then — oh, what happened? How did I lose you? Was it really only yesterday? Where are my curls, my yellow curls? Why am I all alone in the world, except for two little dogs?"

Andrew and Willoughby glanced up indignantly. "Except, indeed!" they seemed to say.

"Yes, yes, I'm getting old," said Miss Lark, as she peered through her wisps of hair. "I'll forget you again, my darling Princes! But, oh, do not forget me! What shall I give you to remember me by? I have lost" — she scrabbled in her pockets—"so many of my possessions!" "We will never forget you," said Veritain gently. "And you've given us something already."

He drew his velvet sleeve aside and showed her the glitter at his wrist.

"My bracelet! But it's only glass!"

"No!" cried Veritain. "Rubies! Sapphires!"

He raised his hand above his head and the bracelet shone so bright in the sunset that it dazzled every eye.

"Golly!" the Policeman muttered. "He's stolen the Crown Jewels!"

"Oh!" breathed Miss Lark, as she clasped her hands and gazed at the shining stones.

"I understand," she murmured softly. "Professor, Professor, do you see?"

But the Professor put his hand to his eyes and turned his head away.

"I have seen too much," he said sadly. "I have seen how foolish I am! Books!" he cried, tossing the volume from him. "Magnifying-glasses!" He flung the glass among the roses. "Alas, alas! I have wasted my time. Florimond, Veritain, Amor — I recognise you now!" He turned his tearful face to the Princes.

"Oh, Beauty, Truth and Love," he whispered. "To think that I knew you when I was a lad! To think that I could forget! All day long you ran at my side. And your voices called to me in the dusk — Follow! Follow! Follow! I see it now — I've been looking for wisdom. But wisdom was there and I turned my back. I've been running away from it ever since, trying to find it in books. So far away" — the Professor hid his face in his arm—"that when I met a Unicorn, I imagined I could have him stuffed! Oh, how can I make up for that? I have no rose, no jewels, nothing."

He glanced about him doubtfully and put his hand to his forehead. And as he did so his face cleared. A happy thought had struck him.

"Take this, my child!" he said to Amor, as he plucked the newspaper hat from his brow. "Your way is long and the night will be chilly and you've nothing on your head!"

"Thank you, Professor!" Amor smiled and set the hat at a jaunty angle over his crown of curls. "I hope you will not be cold without it."

"Cold?" the Professor murmured vaguely, as his gaze slipped past the Princes to the snow-white creature on the lawn. He put out an aged trembling hand and the Unicorn rose from the dewy grass and calmly came to his side.

"Forgive me!" the Professor whispered. "It was not I that would have stuffed you. A madman wearing my skin — not I! No, no! I'll never be cold again. I have stroked a Unicorn!"

His fingers touched the milky neck. The Unicorn stood mild and still. His blue eyes did not flicker.

"That's right, Professor!" said the Policeman cheerfully. "No good trying to stuff a h'animal that by rights belongs to the Law!"

"He belongs to the Law," the Professor murmured. "But not the Law you know—"

"The Fair!" insisted Mr. Mudge, elbowing past the Policeman.

"Yes! All is fair where he comes from." The Professor stroked the Unicorn's nose.

"He'll be among the stars of the Zoo," the Zoo Keeper promised breathlessly.

"He'll be among the stars," said the Professor, touching the tip of the Unicorn's horn, "but far, far from the Zoo."

"Exactly, Professor! You're a sensible chap! Now, I've no more time for h'argument. The boys and the beast are under arrest and I'm taking them off to the Police Station!"

The Policeman put out a determined hand and seized the Unicorn's bridle.

"Quick, Florimond!" warned Mary Poppins.

And Florimond, with a single bound, leapt on the Unicorn's back.

Up went Veritain behind him.

"Goodbye, Michael," whispered Amor, hugging him round the waist. Then with a graceful, running leap he landed behind his brothers.

"Oh, do not leave me!" cried Miss Lark. "I may forget again!"

"I won't forget!" said Michael stoutly, waving his hand to Amor.

"Nor I! Oh, never!" echoed Jane, with a long look at Florimond and Veritain. She felt that their faces were in her heart for ever.

"If you remember, we'll come again!" Florimond promised, smiling. "Are you ready, my brothers? We must go!"

"Ready!" the younger Princes cried.

Then one by one they leant sideways and kissed Mary Poppins.

"We'll be waiting for you," said Florimond.

"Do not be long!" urged Veritain.

"Come back to us," said Amor, laughing, "with a tulip in your hat!"

She tried to look stern, but she simply couldn't. Her firm lips trembled into a smile as she gazed at their shining faces.

"Get along with you — and behave yourselves!" she said with surprising softness.

Then she raised her parrot-headed umbrella and touched the Unicorn's flank.

At once he lifted his silver head and pointed his horn at the sky.

"Remember!" cried Florimond, waving his roses. Veritain held his hand aloft and set the bracelet sparkling.

Amor flourished the handkerchief.

"Remember! Remember!" they cried together, as the Unicorn bounded into the air.

The Park seemed to tremble in the fading light as his hooves flashed over the fountain. A streak of colour shone above the spray, a shimmer of velvet and gold. A single moment of moving brightness and after that — nothing. Princes and Unicorn were gone. Only a far faint echo—"Remember!" — came back to the silent watchers. And the pages of the book on the lawn stirred in the evening breeze.

"After them!" the Policeman shouted. "Robbers! Desperadoes!"

He blew his whistle vigorously and dashed across the Rose Garden.

"A trick! A trick!" yelled Mr. Mudge. "The Invisible Horse and his Three Riders! Why, it's better than Sawing a Lady in Half! Come back, my lads, and I'll buy your secret! Was it this way? That way? Where did they go?"

And off he went, dodging among the trees, in his search for the lost Princes.

"Oh, dear," moaned the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens. "Here today and gone tomorrow! Just like the butterflies!"

He gave Mary Poppins a nervous look and hurried away to the Zoo.

For a moment the only sound in the garden was the music of the fountain. Then Miss Lark sighed and broke the silence.

"Why, goodness me — how late it is! Now, I wonder where I left my gloves! And what did I do with my scarf? I seem to have lost my spectacles. Gracious, yes — and my bracelet, too!"

Her eyes widened and she yawned a little as though she were coming out of a dream.

"You gave it to Veritain!" Jane reminded her.

"Veritain? Veritain? Who can that be? It sounds like something out of a story. I expect you are dreaming, Jane, as usual! Andrew and Willoughby — come along! Oh, Chief Professor! How nice to see you! But what are you doing here?"

The Professor gave her a puzzled glance and he, too, yawned a little.

"I–I'm not quite sure," he answered vaguely.

"And without a hat — you must be cold! Come home with me, Professor, do! And we'll all have muffins for tea."

"Muffins? Er — hum. I used to like muffins when I was a lad, but I haven't had one since. And I had a hat this afternoon. Now, what have I done with it?"

"Amor is wearing it!" cried Michael.

"Amor? Is that a friend of yours? He's welcome! It was only paper. But I'm not a bit cold, Miss Lark — er — hum! I have never felt so warm in my life."

The Professor smiled a contented smile.

"And I," said Miss Lark with a trill of laughter, "have never felt so happy. I can't think why — but there it is. Come, dearest dogs! This way, Professor!"

And, taking the Professor by the hand, she led him out of the Rose Garden.

Jane and Michael stared after them.

"What is your other — er — hum! — name?" they heard him vaguely asking.

"Lucinda Emily," she replied, as she drew him towards the Gate.

"Eee — ow — oo! I was arf asleep!" The Park Keeper yawned and stretched his arms and glanced around the garden.

"'Ere! Wot's all this?" he demanded loudly. "Someone's been pickin' the flowers!"

"You did it yourself," said Jane, laughing.

"Don't you remember?" Michael reminded him. "You gave them to Florimond."

"What? Me pick a rose? I wouldn't dare! And yet—" The Park Keeper frowned in perplexity. "It's funny. I'm feeling quite brave tonight. If the Lord Mayor himself were to come along I wouldn't so much as tremble. And why shouldn't Florrie Wat's-a-name 'ave them, instead of them dyin' on the bush? Well, I must be gettin' 'ome to me mother. Tch! Tch! Tch! Remember the bye-laws!" The Park Keeper pounced on two dark objects.

"All litter to be placed in the baskets!" he cried, as he bore away the Professor's book and magnifying-glass and dumped them into a litter-basket.

Jane sighed. "They've forgotten already, all of them. Miss Lark, the Professor and now the Park Keeper."

"Yes," agreed Michael, shaking his head.

"And what have you forgotten, pray?" Mary Poppins' eyes were bright in the sunset and she seemed to come back to the Rose Garden from very far away.

"Oh, nothing, Mary Poppins, nothing!" With the happy assurance they ran to her side. As if they could ever forget the Princes and the strange and wonderful visit!

"Then what is that book doing there?" She pointed her black-gloved finger at The Silver Fairy Book.

"Oh, that!" Michael darted to get it.

"Wait for me, Mary Poppins!" he cried, pushing his way through the watching crowd that was still staring up at the sky.

The Match Man took the perambulator and sent it creaking out of the garden. Mary Poppins stood still in the entrance with her parrot umbrella under her arm and her handbag hanging from her wrist.

"I remember everything," said Michael, as he hurried back to her side. "And so does Jane — don't you, Jane? And you do, too, Mary Poppins!" The three of us, he thought to himself, we all remember together.

Mary Poppins quickened her steps and they caught up with the perambulator.

"I remember that I want my tea, if that's what you mean!" she said.

"I wonder if Amor drinks tea!" mused Michael, running beside her.

"Tea!" cried the Match Man, thirstily. "Hot and strong, that's how I like it. And at least three lumps of sugar!"

"Do you think they're nearly home, Mary Poppins? How long is it from here to there?" Michael was thinking about the Princes. He could not get them out of his head.

"I'm nearly home, that's all I know," she replied conceitedly.

"They'll come again, they said they would!" He skipped with joy at the thought. Then he remembered something else and stood stock-still with dismay.

"But you won't go back to them, Mary Poppins?" He seized her arm and shook it. "We need you more than the Princes do. They've got the Unicorn — that's enough. Oh, p-p-please, Mary P-pop-pins—" He was now so anxious he could hardly speak. "P-p-promise me you won't go back with a t-t-tulip in your hat!"

She stared at him in angry astonishment.

"Princes with tulips in their hats? Me on the back of a Unicorn? If you're so good at remembering, I'll thank you to remember me! Am I the kind of person that would gallop around on a—"

"No, no! You're mixing it all up. You don't understand, Mary Poppins!"

"I understand that you're behaving like a Hottentot. Me on a Unicorn, indeed! Let me go, Michael, if you please. I hope I can walk without assistance. And you can do the same!"

"Oh! Oh! She's forgotten already!" he wailed, turning to Jane for comfort.

"But the Match Man remembers, don't you, Bert?" Impulsively Jane ran to him and looked for his reassuring smile.

The Match Man took no notice. He was pushing the perambulator on a zigzag course and gazing at Mary Poppins. You would have thought she was the only person in the world, the way he looked at her.

"You see! He's forgotten, too," said Michael. "But it must have happened, mustn't it, Jane? After all, I've got the dagger!"

He felt for the dagger in his belt, but his hand closed on nothing.

"It's gone!" He stared at her mournfully. "He must have taken it when he hugged me goodbye. Or else it wasn't true at all. Do you think we only dreamed it?"

"Perhaps," she answered uncertainly, glancing from the empty belt to the calm and unexcited faces of the Match Man and Mary Poppins. "But, oh" — she thought of Florimond's smiling eyes—"I was so sure they were real!"

They took each other's hands for comfort and leaning their heads on each other's shoulders they walked along together, thinking of the three bright figures and the gentle fairy steed.

Dusk fell about them as they went. The trees like shadows bent above them. And as they came to the big gate they stepped into a pool of light from the newly-lit lamp in the Lane.

"Let's look at them once again," said Jane. Sad it would be, but also sweet, to see their pictured faces. She took the book from Michael's hand and opened it at the well-known page.

"Yes! The dagger's in his belt," she murmured. "Just as it always was." Then her eyes roved over the rest of the picture and she gave a quick, glad cry.

"Oh, Michael, look! It was not a dream. I knew, I knew it was true!"

"Where? Where? Show me quickly!" He followed her pointing finger.

"Oh!" he cried, drawing in his breath. And "Oh!" he said. And again "Oh!" There was nothing else to say.

For the picture was not as it had been. The fruits and flowers still shone on the tree and there on the grass the Princes stood with the Unicorn beside them.

But now in the crook of Florimond's arm there lay a bunch of roses; a little circlet of coloured stones gleamed on Veritain's wrist; Amor was wearing a paper hat perched on the back of his head and from the pocket of his jerkin there peeped a lace-edged handkerchief.

Jane and Michael smiled down on the page. And the three Princes smiled up from the book and their eyes seemed to twinkle in the lamplight.

"They remember us!" declared Jane in triumph.

"And we remember them!" crowed Michael. "Even if Mary Poppins doesn't."

"Oh, indeed?" her voice enquired behind them.

They glanced up quickly and there she stood, a pink-cheeked Dutch Doll figure, as neat as a new pin.

"And what have I forgotten, pray?"

She smiled as she spoke, but not at them. Her eyes were fixed on the three Princes. She nodded complacently at the picture and then at the Match Man who nodded back.

And suddenly Michael understood. He knew that she remembered. How could he and Jane have dared to imagine that she would ever forget!

He turned and hid his face in her skirt.

"You've forgotten nothing, Mary Poppins. It was just my little mistake."

"Little!" She gave an outraged sniff.

"But tell me, Mary Poppins," begged Jane, as she looked from the coloured picture-book to the confident face above her. "Which are the children in the story — the Princes, or Jane and Michael?"

Mary Poppins was silent for a moment. She glanced at the children on the printed page and back to the living children before her. Her eyes were as blue as the Unicorn's, as she took Jane's hand in hers.

They waited breathlessly for her answer.

It seemed to tremble on her lips. The words were on the tip of her tongue. And then — she changed her mind. Perhaps she remembered that Mary Poppins never told anyone anything.

She smiled a tantalising smile.

"I wonder!" she said.

Another sandwich, please!" said Michael, sprawling across Mary Poppins' legs as he reached for the picnic basket.

It was Ellen's Day Out and Mrs. Brill had gone to see her cousin's niece's new baby. So the children were having tea in the Park, away by the Wild Corner.

This was the only place in the Park that was never mown or weeded. Clover, daisies, buttercups, bluebells, grew as high as the children's waists. Nettles and dandelions flaunted their blossoms, for they knew very well that the Park Keeper would never have time to root them out. None of them observed the rules. They scattered their seeds across the lawns, jostled each other for the best places, and crowded together so closely that their stems were always in shadowy darkness.

Mary Poppins, in a sprigged cotton dress, sat bolt upright in a clump of bluebells.

She was thinking, as she darned the socks, that pretty though the Wild Corner was, she knew of something prettier. If it came to a choice between, say, a bunch of clover and herself, it would not be the clover she would choose.

The four children were scattered about her.

Annabel bounced in the perambulator.

And not far off, among the nettles, the Park Keeper was making a daisy-chain.

Birds were piping on every bough, and the Ice Cream Man sang cheerfully as he trundled his barrow along.

The notice on the front said:

THE DAY IS HOT

Mary Poppins!" called Michael. "Wait for us!"

"W-a-a-a-i-t!" the wind echoed, whining round him.

It was a dusky, gusty autumn evening. The clouds blew in and out of the sky. And in all the houses of Cherry Tree Lane the curtains blew in and out of the windows. Swish-swish. Flap-flap.

The Park was tossing like a ship in a storm. Leaves and litter-paper turned head-over-heels in the air. The trees groaned and waved their arms, the spray of the fountain was blown and scattered. Benches shivered. Swings were creaking. The Lake water leapt into foamy waves. Nothing was still in the whole Park as it bowed and shuddered under the wind.

And through it all stalked Mary Poppins, with not a hair out of place. Her neat blue coat with its silver buttons was neither creased nor ruffled, and the tulip sat on her hat so firmly that it might have been made of marble.

Far behind her the children ran, splashing through drifts of leaves. They had been to Mr. Folly's stall for nuts and toffee-apples. And now they were trying to catch her up.

"Wait for us, Mary Poppins!"

In front of her, on the Long Walk, the perambulator trundled. The wind whistled through the wheels, and the Twins and Annabel clung together for fear of being blown overboard. Their tasselled caps were tossing wildly and the rug was flapping loose, like a flag.

"O-o-o-h!" they squeaked, like excited mice, as a sudden gust tore it free and carried it away.

Someone was coming down the path, bowling along like a tattered newspaper.

"Help!" shrilled a high, familiar voice. "Something has blown right over my hat! I can't see where I'm going."

It was Miss Lark, out for her evening walk. Her two dogs bounded on ahead and behind her the Professor straggled, with his hair standing on end.

"Is that you, Mary Poppins?" she cried, as she plucked the rug away from her face and flung it upon the perambulator. "What a dreadful night! Such a wild wind! I wonder you're not blown away!"

Mary Poppins raised her eyebrows and gave a superior sniff. If the wind blew anyone away, it would not be herself, she thought.

"What do you mean — a dreadful night?" Admiral Boom strode up behind them. His dachshund, Pompey, was at his heels, wearing a little sailor's jacket to keep him from catching cold.

"It's a perfect night, my dear lady, for a life on the ocean wave!

Sixteen men on a dead man's chest

P. L. TRAVERS (1906–1996) was a drama critic, travel essayist, reviewer, lecturer, and the creator of Mary Poppins. Travers wrote eight Mary Poppins books altogether, including Mary Poppins (1934), Mary Poppins Comes Back (1935), Mary Poppins Opens the Door (1943), and Mary Poppins in the Park (1952), all from Harcourt Brace. Ms. Travers wrote several other children's books as well as adult books, but it is for the character of Mary Poppins that she is best remembered.