P. Travers - Mary Poppins in the Park

"Lost and found!" He embraced his shadow. "How beautiful are those two words when one hears them both together! Oh, never let us part again! You will remember what I forget—"

"And vice versa!" his shadow cried. And the two old men wandered off with their arms round each other.

"But I tell you it's against the Rules!" The Park Keeper pulled himself together. "'Allowe'en ought to be forbidden. Get along off, you ghosts and shadows! No dancin' allowed in the Park!"

"You should talk!" jeered Mary Poppins, as she capered past with the Cat. She nodded her head towards the swings and the Park Keeper's face grew red with shame.

For there he beheld his own shadow dancing a Highland Fling!

Tee-um, turn. Tee-um, turn.

Tee-um, tee-um, tee-um.

"Stop! Whoa there! Have done!" he shouted. "You come along with me this minute. I'm ashamed of you — breakin' the rules like this. Lumme, what's 'appenin' to me legs?"

For his feet, as though they lived a life of their own, had begun to hop and skip. Off they went — tee-um, tee-um! And by the time he had reached his shadow he, too, was doing the Highland Fling.

"Now, you keep still!" he warned it sternly, as they both slowed down together. "Be'ave yourself like a 'uman bein'!"

"But shadows are so much nicer!" his shadow said with a giggle.

"Fred! Fred!" hissed an anxious voice, as a head in an old-fashioned nightcap came round the edge of a laurel.

"Benjamin!" the Park Keeper cried. "What do you think you're doin'?"

"Searching for my shadow, Fred," said the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens. "It ran away when I wasn't looking. And I dare not face the Head Keeper unless I have it with me! A-a-ah!" He made a swoop with his net.

"Got you!" he cried, triumphantly, as he scooped up a flying shape.

His shadow gave a ghostly laugh, clear and high and tinkling.

"You've got me, Benjamin!" it trilled. "But you haven't got my treasures. You shan't have them to put in a cage — they're going where they belong!"

Out of the net came an airy hand. And a cluster of tiny flitting shapes sped away through the sky. One alone fluttered over the dancers as though looking for something. Then it darted down towards the grass and settled on the left shoulder of Mary Poppins' shadow.

"A birthday gift!" piped a voice from the net, as the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens carried his shadow home.

"A butterfly for a birthday!" The friendly shadows whooped with delight.

"That's all very well," said a cheerful voice. "Butterflies is all right in their place — but what about my birdies?"

Along the path came a buxom woman, with a tossing, cooing crowd of doves tumbling all about her. There was one on her hat, one on her shawl; a dove's bright eye peered out from her pocket and another from under her skirt.

"Mum!" said the Park Keeper, anxiously. "It's late for you to be out."

Keeping a firm hold of his shadow, he hurried to her side.

"I know it, lad. But I 'ad to come. I don't so much mind about my own — but my birdies 'ave lost their shadders!"

"Excuse me, lovies!" said the Bird Woman's shadow, as she smiled at Jane and Michael. "But I 'ave to go where I belong — that's the law, you know. Hey, old dear!" it called softly. "Lookin for me, I wonder?"

"I shouldn't wonder if I was!" The Bird Woman gave her shadow a calm and humorous glance. "I got the birds, you got the shadders. And it's not for me to say which is best — but they ought to be together."

Her shadow lightly waved its hand and the Bird Woman gave a contented chuckle. For now, beneath each grey dove, a dark shadow was flying.

"Feed the birds!" she shouted gaily.

"Tuppence a bag!" said her shadow.

"Tuppence, fourpence, sixpence, eightpence — that makes twenty-four. No, it doesn't. What's the matter? I've forgotten how to add!"

Mr. Banks came slowly across the Park with his bathrobe over his shoulders. His arms were stretched out straight before him and he walked with his eyes closed.

"We're here, daddy!" cried Jane and Michael. But Mr. Banks took no notice.

"I've got my bag and the morning paper — and yet there's something missing—"

"Take him home, someone!" the shadows cried. "He's walking in his sleep!"

And one of them — in a shadowy coat and bowler hat — sprang to Mr. Banks' side.

"There, old chap! I'll do the counting. Come along back to bed."

Mr. Banks turned obediently and his sleeping face lit up.

"I thought there was something missing," he murmured. "But it seems I was mistaken!" He took his shadow by the arm and sauntered away with it.

"Seeking's finding — eh, ducky?" The Bird Woman nudged her shadow. "Oh, beg pardon, Your Worship." She bobbed a curtsey. "I wasn't addressin' you! "

For the Lord Mayor and two Aldermen were advancing along the Walk. Their big cloaks billowed out behind them and their chains of office jingled.

"I 'ope I find Your Honour well?" the Bird Woman murmured politely.

"You do not, Mrs. Smith," the Lord Mayor grumbled. "I am feeling very upset."

"Upset, my boy?" shrieked Mrs. Corry, dancing past with the Cow. "Well, an apple a day keeps the doctor away, as I used to remind my great-great-grandson who was thrice Lord Mayor of London. Whittington, his name was. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

"Your great-great-grandfather you mean—" The Lord Mayor looked at her haughtily.

"Fiddlesticks! Indeed, I don't. Well, what's upsetting you?"

"A terrible misfortune, ma'am. I've lost—" He glanced around the Park and his eyes bulged in his head.

"That!" he cried, flinging out his hand. For there, indeed, was his portly shadow, doing its best to conceal itself behind Fannie and Annie.

"Oh, bother!" it wailed. "What a nuisance you are! Couldn't you let me have one night off? If you knew how weary I am of processions! And as for going to see the King—"

"Certainly not!" said the Lord Mayor, "I could never agree to appear in public without a suitable shadow. Such a suggestion is most improper and, what is more, undignified."

"Well, you needn't be so high and mighty. You're only a Lord Mayor, you know — not the Shah of Baghdad!"

"Hic-Hic!" The Park Keeper stifled a snigger and the Lord Mayor turned to him sternly.

"Smith," he declared, "this is your fault. You know the rules and you break them all. Giving a party in the Park! What next, I wonder? I'm afraid there's nothing for it, Smith, but to speak to the Lord High Chancellor!"

"It's not my party, Yer Worship — please! Give me another chance, Yer Honour. Think of me pore old—"

"Don't you worry about me, Fred!" The Bird Woman snapped her fingers sharply.

And at once the doves clapped their wings and swooped towards the Lord Mayor. They sat on his head, they sat on his nose, they tucked their tail-feathers down his neck and fluttered inside his cloak.

"Oh, don't! I'm a ticklish man! Hee, hee!" The Lord Mayor, quite against his will, burst into helpless laughter.

"Remove these birds at once, Smith! I won't be tickled — oh, ha, ha!"

He laughed, he crowed, he guffawed, he tittered, ducking and whirling among the dancers as he tried to escape the doves.

"Not under my chin! — Oh, oh! — Have mercy! Oof! There's one inside my sleeve. Oh, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, hee! Dear me! Is that you, Miss Mary Poppins? Well, that makes all the — tee-hee! — difference. You're so re — ho, ho! — spectable." The Lord Mayor writhed as the soft feathers rustled behind his ears.