Читать книгу Mary Poppins - the Complete Collection - Памела Трэверс, P.L. Travers - Страница 27

ALL DAY LONG Mary Poppins had been in a hurry, and when she was in a hurry she was always cross.

Everything Jane did was bad, everything Michael did was worse. She even snapped at the Twins.

Jane and Michael kept out of her way as much as possible, for they knew that there were times when it was better not to be seen or heard by Mary Poppins.

“I wish we were invisible,” said Michael, when Mary Poppins had told him that the very sight of him was more than any self-respecting person could be expected to stand.

“We shall be,” said Jane, “if we go behind the sofa. We can count the money in our money-boxes, and she may be better after she’s had her supper.”

So they did that.

“Sixpence and four pennies – that’s tenpence, and a halfpenny and a threepenny-bit,” said Jane, counting up quickly.

“Four pennies and three farthings and – and that’s all,” sighed Michael, putting his money in a little heap.

“That’ll do nicely for the poor box,” said Mary Poppins, looking over the arm of the sofa and sniffing.

“Oh no,” said Michael reproachfully. “It’s for myself. I’m saving.”

“Huh – for one of those aeryplanes, I suppose!” said Mary Poppins scornfully.

“No, for an elephant – a private one for myself, like Lizzie at the Zoo. I could take you for rides then,” said Michael, half-looking and half-not-looking at her to see how she would take it.

“Humph,” said Mary Poppins, “what an idea!” But they could see she was not quite so cross as before.

“I wonder,” said Michael thoughtfully, “what happens in the Zoo at night, when everybody’s gone home?”

“Care killed a cat,” snapped Mary Poppins.

“I wasn’t caring, I was only wondering,” corrected Michael. “Do you know?” he enquired of Mary Poppins, who was whisking the crumbs off the table in double-quick time.

“One more question from you – and spit-spot, to bed you go!” she said, and began to tidy the Nursery so busily that she looked more like a whirlwind in a cap and apron than a human being.

“It’s no good asking her. She knows everything, but she never tells,” said Jane.

“What’s the good of knowing if you don’t tell anyone?” grumbled Michael, but he said it under his breath so that Mary Poppins couldn’t hear. . .

Jane and Michael could never remember having been put to bed so quickly as they were that night. Mary Poppins blew out the light very early, and went away as hurriedly as though all the winds of the world were blowing behind her.

It seemed to them that they had been there no time, however, when they heard a low voice whispering at the door.

“Hurry, Jane and Michael!” said the voice. “Get some things on and hurry!”

They jumped out of their beds, surprised and startled.

“Come on,” said Jane. “Something’s happening.” And she began to rummage for some clothes in the darkness.

“Hurry!” called the voice again.

“Oh dear, all I can find is my sailor hat and a pair of gloves!” said Michael, running round the room pulling at drawers and feeling along shelves.

“Those’ll do. Put them on. It isn’t cold. Come on.”

Jane herself had only been able to find a little coat of John’s, but she squeezed her arms into it and opened the door. There was nobody there, but they seemed to hear something hurrying away down the stairs. Jane and Michael followed. Whatever it was, or whoever it was, kept continually in front of them.

They never saw it, but they had the distinct sensation of being led on and on by something that constantly beckoned them to follow. Presently they were in the Lane, their slippers making a soft hissing noise on the pavement as they scurried along.

“Hurry!” urged the voice again from a nearby corner, but when they turned it they could still see nothing. They began to run, hand in hand, following the voice down streets, through alleyways, under arches and across Parks until, panting and breathless, they were brought to a standstill beside a large turnstile in a wall.

“Here you are!” said the voice.

“Where?” called Michael to it. But there was no reply. Jane moved towards the turnstile, dragging Michael by the hand.

“Look!” she said. “Don’t you see where we are? It’s the Zoo!”

A very bright full moon was shining in the sky and by its light Michael examined the iron grating and looked through the bars. Of course! How silly of him not to have known it was the Zoo!

“But how shall we get in?” he said. “We’ve no money.”

“That’s all right!” said a deep, gruff voice from within. “Special Visitors allowed in free tonight. Push the wheel, please!”

Jane and Michael pushed and were through the turnstile in a second.

“Here’s your ticket,” the gruff voice said, and, looking up, they found that it came from a huge Brown Bear who was wearing a coat with brass buttons and a peaked cap on his head. In his paw were two pink tickets which he held out to the children.

“But we usually give tickets,” said Jane.

“Usual is as usual does. Tonight you receive them,” said the Bear, smiling.

Michael had been regarding him closely.

“I remember you,” he said to the Bear. “I once gave you a tin of golden syrup.”

“You did,” said the Bear. “And you forgot to take the lid off. Do you know, I was more than ten days working at that lid? Be more careful in the future.”

“But why aren’t you in your cage? Are you always out at night?” said Michael.

“No – only when the Birthday falls on a Full Moon. But you must excuse me. I must attend to the gate.” And the Bear turned away and began to spin the handle of the turnstile again.

Jane and Michael, holding their tickets, walked on into the Zoo grounds. In the light of the full moon every tree and flower and shrub was visible, and they could see the houses and cages quite clearly.

“There seems to be a lot going on,” observed Michael.

And indeed, there was. Animals were running about on all the paths, sometimes accompanied by birds and sometimes alone. Two wolves ran past the children, talking eagerly to a very tall stork who was tiptoeing between them with dainty, delicate movements. Jane and Michael distinctly caught the words “Birthday” and “Full Moon” as they went by.

In the distance three camels were strolling along side by side, and not far away a beaver and an American vulture were deep in conversation. And they all seemed to the children to be discussing the same subject.

“Whose Birthday is it, I wonder?” said Michael, but Jane was moving ahead, gazing at a curious sight.

Just by the Elephant Stand a very large, very fat old gentleman was walking up and down on all fours, and on his back, on two small parallel seats, were eight monkeys going for a ride.

“Why, it’s all upside down!” exclaimed Jane.

The old gentleman gave her an angry look as he went past.

“Upside down!” he snorted. “Me! Upside down? Certainly not. Gross insult!” The eight monkeys laughed rudely.

“Oh, please – I didn’t mean you – but the whole thing,” explained Jane, hurrying after him to apologize. “On ordinary days the animals carry human beings and now there’s a human being carrying the animals. That’s what I meant.”

But the old gentleman, shuffling and panting, insisted that he had been insulted, and hurried away with the monkeys screaming on his back.

Jane saw it was no good following him, so she took Michael’s hand and moved onwards. They were startled when a voice, almost at their feet, hailed them.

“Come on, you two! In you come, Let’s see you dive for a bit of orange peel you don’t want.” It was a bitter, angry voice, and looking down they saw that it came from a small black Seal who was leering at them from a moonlit pool of water.

“Come on, now – and see how you like it!” he said.

“But – but we can’t swim!” said Michael.

“Can’t help that!” said the Seal. “You should have thought of that before. Nobody ever bothers to find out whether I can swim or not. Eh, what? What’s that?”

He spoke the last question to another Seal who had emerged from the water and was whispering in his ear.

“Who?” said the first Seal. “Speak up!”

The second Seal whispered again. Jane caught the words “Special Visitors – Friends of—” and then no more. The first Seal seemed disappointed, but he said politely enough to Jane and Michael:

“Oh, beg pardon. Pleased to meet you. Beg pardon.” And he held out his flipper and shook hands limply with them both.

“Look where you’re going, can’t you?” he shouted, as something bumped into Jane. She turned quickly and gave a little frightened start as she beheld an enormous Lion. The eyes of the Lion brightened as he saw her.

“Oh, I say—” he began. “I didn’t know it was you! This place is so crowded tonight and I’m in such a hurry to see the humans fed I’m afraid I didn’t look where I was going. Coming along? You oughtn’t to miss it, you know—”

“Perhaps,” said Jane politely, “you’d show us the way.” She was a little uncertain of the Lion, but he seemed kindly enough. “And after all,” she thought, “everything is topsy-turvy tonight.”

“Dee-lighted!” said the Lion in rather a mincing voice, and he offered her his arm. She took it, but to be on the safe side she kept Michael beside her. He was such a round, fat little boy, and after all, she thought, lions are lions—

“Does my mane look nice?” asked the Lion as they moved off. “I had it curled for the occasion.”

Jane looked at it. She could see that it had been carefully oiled and combed into ringlets.

“Very,” she said. “But – isn’t it rather odd for a lion to care about such things? I thought—”

“What! My dear young lady, the Lion, as you know, is the King of the Beasts. He has to remember his position. And I, personally, am not likely to forget it. I believe a lion should always look his best no matter where he is. This way.”

And with a graceful wave of his forepaw he pointed towards the Big Cat House and ushered them in at the entrance.

Jane and Michael caught their breaths at the sight that met their eyes. The great hall was thronged with animals. Some were leaning over the long bar that separated them from the cages, some were standing on the seats that rose in tiers opposite. There were panthers and leopards, wolves, tigers and antelopes; monkeys and hedgehogs, wombats, mountain goats and giraffes; and an enormous group composed entirely of kittiwakes and vultures.

“Splendid, isn’t it?” said the Lion proudly. “Just like the dear old jungle days. But come along – we must get good places.”

And he pushed his way through the crowd crying, “Gangway, gangway!” and dragging Jane and Michael after him. Presently, through a little clearing in the middle of the hall, they were able to get a glimpse of the cages.

“Why,” said Michael, opening his mouth very wide, “they’re full of human beings!”

And they were.

In one cage two large, middle-aged gentlemen in top hats and striped trousers were prowling up and down, anxiously gazing through the bars as though they were waiting for something.

Children of all shapes and sizes, from babies in long clothes upwards, were scrambling about in another cage. The animals outside regarded these with great interest and some of them tried to make the babies laugh by thrusting their paws or their tails in through the bars. A giraffe stretched his long neck out over the heads of the other animals and let a little boy in a sailor-suit tickle its nose.

In a third cage three elderly ladies in raincoats and galoshes were imprisoned. One of them was knitting, but the other two were standing near the bars shouting at the animals and poking at them with their umbrellas.

“Nasty brutes. Go away. I want my tea!” screamed one of them.

“Isn’t she funny?” said several of the animals, and they laughed loudly at her.

“Jane – look!” said Michael, pointing to the cage at the end of the row. “Isn’t that—”

“Admiral Boom!” said Jane, looking very surprised.

And Admiral Boom it was. He was ramping up and down in his cage, coughing, and blowing his nose, and spluttering with rage.

“Blast my gizzard! All hands to the Pump! Land, ho! Heave away there! Blast my gizzard!” shouted the Admiral. Every time he came near the bars a tiger prodded him gently with a stick and this made Admiral Boom swear dreadfully.

“But how did they all get in there?” Jane asked the Lion.

“Lost,” said the Lion. “Or rather, left behind. These are the people who’ve dawdled and been left inside when the gates were shut. Got to put ’em somewhere, so we keep ’em here. He’s dangerous – that one there! Nearly did for his keeper not long ago. Don’t go near him!” And he pointed at Admiral Boom.

“Stand back, please, stand back! Don’t crush! Make way, please!” Jane and Michael could hear several voices crying these words loudly.

“Ah – now they’re going to be fed!” said the Lion, excitedly pressing forward into the crowd. “Here come the keepers.”

Four Brown Bears, each wearing a peaked cap, were trundling trolleys of food along the little corridor that separated the animals from their cages.

“Stand back, there!” they said, whenever an animal got in the way. Then they opened a small door in each cage and thrust the food through on pronged forks.

Jane and Michael had a good view of what was happening, through a gap between a panther and a dingo. Bottles of milk were being thrown into the babies, who made soft little grabs with their hands and clutched them greedily. The older children snatched sponge cakes and doughnuts from the forks and began to eat ravenously. Plates of thin bread-and-butter and wholemeal scones were provided for the ladies in galoshes, and the gentlemen in top hats had lamb cutlets and custard in glasses. These, as they received their food, took it away into a corner, spread handkerchiefs over their striped trousers and began to eat.

Presently, as the keepers passed down the line of cages, a great commotion was heard.

“Blast my vitals – call that a meal? A skimpy little round of beef and a couple of cabbages! What – no Yorkshire pudding? Outrageous! Up with the anchor! And where’s my port? Port, I say! Heave her over! Below there, where’s the Admiral’s port?”

“Listen to him! He’s turned nasty. I tell you, he’s not safe – that one,” said the Lion.

Jane and Michael did not need to be told whom he meant. They knew Admiral Boom’s language too well.

“Well,” said the Lion, as the noise in the hall grew less uproarious. “That appears to be the end. And I’m afraid, if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting along. See you later at the Grand Chain, I hope. I’ll look out for you.” And, leading them to the door, he took his leave of them, sidling away, swinging his curled mane, his golden body dappled with moonlight and shadow.

“Oh, please—” Jane called after him. But he was out of hearing.

“I wanted to ask him if they’d ever get out. The poor humans! Why, it might have been John and Barbara – or any of us.” She turned to Michael, but found that he was no longer by her side. He had moved away along one of the paths and, running after him, she found him talking to a Penguin who was standing in the middle of the path with a large copybook under one wing and an enormous pencil under the other. He was biting the end of it thoughtfully as she approached.

“I can’t think,” she heard Michael saying, apparently in answer to a question.

The Penguin turned to Jane. “Perhaps you can tell me,” he said. “Now, what rhymes with Mary? I can’t use ‘contrary’ because that has been done before and one must be original. If you’re going to say ‘fairy’, don’t. I’ve thought of that already, but as it’s not a bit like her, it won’t do.”

“Hairy,” said Michael brightly.

“Him. Not poetic enough,” observed the Penguin.

“What about ‘wary’?” said Jane.

“Well—” The Penguin appeared to be considering it. “It’s not very good, is it?” he said forlornly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to give it up. You see, I was trying to write a poem for the Birthday. I thought it would be so nice if I began:

‘O Mary, Mary—’

and then I couldn’t get any further. It’s very annoying. They expect something learnt from a penguin, and I don’t want to disappoint them. Well, well – you mustn’t keep me. I must get on with it.” And with that he hurried away, biting his pencil and bending over his copybook.

“This is all very confusing,” said Jane. “Whose birthday is it, I wonder?”

“Now, come along, you two, come along. You want to pay your respects, I suppose, it being the Birthday and all!” said a voice behind them and, turning, they saw the Brown Bear who had given them their tickets at the gate.

“Oh, of course!” said Jane, thinking that was the safest thing to say, but not knowing in the least whom they were to pay their respects to.

The Brown Bear put an arm round each of them and propelled them along the path. They could feel his warm soft fur brushing against their bodies and hear the rumblings his voice made in his stomach as he talked.

“Here we are, here we are!” said the Brown Bear, stopping before a small house whose windows were all so brightly lit that if it hadn’t been a moonlight night you would have thought the sun was shining. The Bear opened the door and gently pushed the two children through it.

The light dazzled them at first, but their eyes soon became accustomed to it and they saw that they were in the Snake House. All the cages were open and the snakes were out – some curled lazily into great scaly knots, others slipping gently about the floor. And in the middle of the snakes, on a log that had evidently been brought from one of the cages, sat Mary Poppins. Jane and Michael could hardly believe their eyes.

“Coupla birthday guests, ma’am,” announced the Brown Bear respectfully. The snakes turned their heads enquiringly towards the children. Mary Poppins did not move. But she spoke.

“And where’s your overcoat, may I ask?” she demanded, looking crossly but without surprise at Michael.

“And your hat and gloves?” she snapped, turning to Jane.

But before either of them had time to reply there was a stir in the Snake House.

“Hsssst! Hsssst!”

The snakes, with a soft hissing sound, were rising up on end and bowing to something behind Jane and Michael. The Brown Bear took off his peaked cap. And slowly Mary Poppins, too, stood up.

“My dear child. My very dear child!” said a small, delicate, hissing voice. And out from the largest of the cages there came, with slow, soft, winding movements, a Hamadryad. He slid in graceful curves past the bowing snakes and the Brown Bear, towards Mary Poppins. And when he reached her, he raised the front half of his long golden body, and, thrusting upwards his scaly golden hood, daintily kissed her, first on one cheek and then on the other.

“So!” he hissed softly. “This is very pleasant – very pleasant, indeed. It is long since your Birthday fell on a Full Moon, my dear.” He turned his head.

“Be seated, friends!” he said, bowing graciously to the other snakes, who, at that word, slid reverently to the floor again, coiled themselves up, and gazed steadily at the Hamadryad and Mary Poppins.

The Hamadryad turned them to Jane and Michael, and with a little shiver they saw that his face was smaller and more wizened than anything they had ever seen. They took a step forward, for his curious deep eyes seemed to draw them towards him. Long and narrow they were, with a dark sleepy look in them, and in the middle of that dark sleepiness a wakeful light like a jewel.

“And who, may I ask, are these?” he said in his soft, terrifying voice, looking at the children enquiringly.

“Miss Jane Banks and Master Michael Banks, at your service,” said the Brown Bear gruffly, as though he were half afraid. “Her friends.”

“Ah, her friends. Then they are welcome. My dears, pray be seated.”

Jane and Michael, feeling somehow that they were in the presence of a King – as they had not felt when they met the Lion – with difficulty drew their eyes from that compelling gaze and looked round for something to sit on. The Brown Bear provided this by squatting down himself and offering them each a furry knee.

Jane said, in a whisper: “He talks as though he were a great lord.”

“He is. He’s the lord of our world – the wisest and most terrible of us all,” said the Brown Bear softly and reverently.

The Hamadryad smiled, a long, slow, secret smile, and turned to Mary Poppins.

“Cousin,” he began gently hissing.

“Is she really his cousin?” whispered Michael.

“First cousin once removed – on the mother’s side,” returned the Brown Bear, whispering the information behind his paw. “But, listen now. He’s going to give the Birthday Present.”

“Cousin,” repeated the Hamadryad, “it is long since your Birthday fell on the Full Moon and long since we have been able to celebrate the event as we celebrate it tonight. I have, therefore, had time to give the question of your Birthday Present some consideration. And I have decided” – he paused, and there was no sound in the Snake House but the sound of many creatures all holding their breath – “that I cannot do better than give you one of my own skins.”

“Indeed, cousin, it is too kind of you—” began Mary Poppins, but the Hamadryad held up his hood for silence.

“Not at all. Not at all. You know that I change my skin from time to time and that one more or less means little to me. Am I not—?” he paused and looked round him.

“The Lord of the Jungle,” hissed all the snakes in unison, as though the question and the answer were part of a well-known ceremony.

The Hamadryad nodded. “So,” he said, “what seems good to me will seem so to you. It is a small enough gift, dear Mary, but it may serve for a belt or a pair of shoes, even a hatband – these things always come in useful, you know.”

And with that he began to sway gently from side to side, and it seemed to Jane and Michael as they watched that little waves were running up his body from the tail to the head. Suddenly he gave a long, twisting, corkscrew leap and his golden outer skin lay on the floor, and in its place he was wearing a new coat of shining silver.

“Wait!” said the Hamadryad, as Mary Poppins bent to pick up the skin. “I will write a Greeting upon it.” And he ran his tail very quickly along his thrown skin, deftly bent the golden sheath into a circle, and diving his head through this as though it were a crown, offered it graciously to Mary Poppins. She took it, bowing.

“I just can’t thank you enough—” she began, and paused. She was evidently very pleased, for she kept running the skin backwards and forwards through her fingers and looking at it admiringly.

“Don’t try,” said the Hamadryad. “Hsst!” he went on, and spread out his hood as though he were listening with it. “Do I not hear the signal for the Grand Chain?”

Everybody listened. A bell was ringing and a deep gruff voice could be heard coming nearer and nearer, crying out:

“Grand Chain, Grand Chain! Everybody to the centre for the Grand Chain and Finale. Come along, come along. Stand ready for the Grand Chain!”

“I thought so,” said the Hamadryad, smiling. “You must be off, my dear. They’ll be waiting for you to take your place in the centre. Farewell, till your next Birthday.” And he raised himself as he had done before and lightly saluted Mary Poppins on both cheeks.

“Hurry away!” said the Hamadryad. “I will take care of your young friends.”

Jane and Michael felt the Brown Bear moving under them as they stood up. Past their feet they could feel all the snakes slipping and writhing as they hurried from the Snake House. Mary Poppins bowed towards the Hamadryad very ceremoniously, and without a backward glance at the children went running towards the huge green square in the centre of the Zoo.

“You may leave us,” said the Hamadryad to the Brown Bear who, after bowing humbly, ran off with his cap in his hand to where all the other animals were congregating round Mary Poppins.

“Will you go with me?” said the Hamadryad kindly to Jane and Michael. And without waiting for them to reply he slid between them, and with a movement of his hood directed them to walk one on either side of him.

“It has begun,” he said, hissing with pleasure.

And from the loud cries that were now coming from the Green, the children could guess that he meant the Grand Chain. As they drew nearer they could hear the animals singing and shouting, and presently they saw leopards and lions, beavers camels, bears, cranes, antelopes and many others all forming themselves into a ring round Mary Poppins. Then the animals began to move, wildly crying their Jungle songs, prancing in and out of the ring, and exchanging hand and wing as they went as dancers do in the Grand Chain of the Lancers.

A little piping voice rose high above the rest:

“Oh, Mary, Mary,

She’s my Dearie, She’s my Dear-i-o!”

And they saw the Penguin come dancing by, waving his short wings and singing lustily. He caught sight of them, bowed to the Hamadryad, and called out:

“I got it – did you hear me singing it? It’s not perfect, of course. ‘Dearie’ does not rhyme exactly with Mary. But it’ll do, it’ll do!” and he skipped off and offered his wing to a leopard.

Jane and Michael watched the dance, the Hamadryad secret and still between them. As their friend the Lion, dancing past, bent down to take the wing of a Brazilian Pheasant in his paw, Jane shyly tried to put her feelings into words.

“I thought, Sir—” she began and stopped, feeling confused, and not sure whether she ought to say it or not.

“Speak, my child!” said the Hamadryad. “You thought?”

“Well – that lions and birds, and tigers and little animals—”

The Hamadryad helped her. “You thought that they were natural enemies, that the lion could not meet a bird without eating it, nor the tiger the hare – eh?”

Jane blushed and nodded.

“Ah – you may be right. It is probable. But not on the Birthday,” said the Hamadryad. “Tonight the small are free from the great and the great protect the small. Even I—” he paused and seemed to be thinking deeply, “even I can meet a Barnacle goose without any thought of dinner – on this occasion. And after all,” he went on, flicking his terrible little forked tongue in and out as he spoke, “it may be that to eat and be eaten are the same thing in the end. My wisdom tells me that this is probably so. We are all made of the same stuff, remember, we of the Jungle, you of the City. The same substance composes us – the tree overhead, the stone beneath us, the bird, the beast, the star – we are all one, all moving to the same end. Remember that when you no longer remember me, my child.”

“But how can tree be stone? A bird is not me. Jane is not a tiger,” said Michael stoutly.

“You think not?” said the Hamadryad’s hissing voice. “Look!” and he nodded his head towards the moving mass of creatures before them. Birds and animals were now swaying together, closely encircling Mary Poppins, who was rocking lightly from side to side. Backwards and forwards went the swaying crowd, keeping time together, swinging like the pendulum of a clock. Even the trees were bending and lifting gently, and the moon seemed to be rocking in the sky as a ship rocks on the sea.

“Bird and beast and stone and star – we are all one, all one—” murmured the Hamadryad, softly folding his hood about him as he himself swayed between the children.

“Child and serpent, star and stone – all one.”

The hissing voice grew softer. The cries of the swaying animals dwindled and became fainter. Jane and Michael, as they listened, felt themselves gently rocking too, or as if they were being rocked. . .

Soft, shaded light fell on their faces.

“Asleep and dreaming – both of them,” said a whispering voice. Was it the voice of the Hamadryad, or their mother’s voice as she tucked them in, on her usual nightly round of the Nursery?

“Good.” Was that the Brown Bear gruffly speaking, or Mr Banks?

Jane and Michael, rocking and swaying, could not tell. . . could not tell. . .

“I had such a strange dream last night,” said Jane, as she sprinkled sugar over her porridge at breakfast. “I dreamt we were at the Zoo and it was Mary Poppins’ birthday, and instead of animals in the cages there were human beings, and all the animals were outside—”

“Why, that’s my dream. I dreamt that, too,” said Michael, looking very surprised.

“We can’t both have dreamt the same thing,” said Jane. “Are you sure? Do you remember the Lion who curled his mane and the Seal who wanted us to—”

“Dive for orange peel?” said Michael. “Of course I do! And the babies inside the cage, and the Penguin who couldn’t find a rhyme, and the Hamadryad—”

“Then it couldn’t have been a dream at all,” said Jane emphatically. “It must have been true. And if it was—” She looked curiously at Mary Poppins, who was boiling the milk.

“Mary Poppins,” she said, “could Michael and I have dreamed the same dream?”

“You and your dreams!” said Mary Poppins, sniffing. “Eat your porridge, please, or you will have no buttered toast.”

But Jane would not be put off. She had to know.

“Mary Poppins,” she said, looking very hard at her, “were you at the Zoo last night?”

Mary Poppins’ eyes popped.

“At the Zoo? In the middle of the night? Me? A quiet orderly person who knows that early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise?”

“But were you?” Jane persisted.

“I have all I need of zoos in this nursery, thank you,” said Mary Poppins uppishly. “Hyenas, orang-utans, all of you. Sit up straight, and no more nonsense.”

Jane poured out her milk.

“Then it must have been a dream,” she said, “after all.”

But Michael was staring, open-mouthed, at Mary Poppins, who was now making toast at the fire.

“Jane,” he said in a shrill whisper, “Jane, look!” He pointed, and Jane, too, saw what he was looking at.

Round her waist Mary Poppins was wearing a belt made of golden scaly snakeskin, and on it was written in curving, snaky writing:

“A Present From the Zoo.”