Mary Poppins--the Complete Collection

by P. L. Travers

  “The Bird Woman!” whispered Jane to Michael.

  “Who are you callin’ an old wife? Feed the birds! Tuppence a bag!”

  A cry of pleasure went up from the crowd as everyone greeted the new arrival. The children saw their own reflections running to kiss her cheeks, and as though – tonight – they were shadows, they hurried after them.

  The party was growing more and more lively. The whole Park was ringing with laughter. And above the voices, high and sweet, came the reedy note of the flute.

  “Over the hills and far away!” played Tom, the Piper’s Son.

  And in Cherry Tree Lane the people lying in bed listened and huddled under the blankets.

  “It’s Hallowe’en!” each said to himself. “Of course I don’t believe in ghosts – but listen to them shrieking!”

  They would have been surprised, perhaps, had they dared to look out of the window.

  Every second the crowd thickened. And it seemed to the children as they watched that everyone they had ever known had a shadow at the party. Was that Aunt Flossie’s? They could not tell. She was there and gone again. And surely those were John and Barbara’s flitting among the leaves!

  “Well, lovies?” murmured the Bird Woman’s shadow, as it smiled at the four young faces – a girl with her airy shape beside her and a boy arm-inarm with his double.

  “Quack-quack!” said a voice at the same moment.

  “Oh, Goosey-Gander, wait for us!” And away went the airy children.

  The Bird Woman’s shadow gathered its skirts and made room on the bench for Jane and Michael.

  “My!” she exclaimed, as her arms went round them. “You’re solid and no mistake!”

  “That’s because we’re real,” said Jane.

  “Bones and toe-nails and hair and blood,” Michael kindly informed her.

  “Ah!” The Bird Woman’s shadow nodded. “I expect you ’ad a Special Ticket. It isn’t everyone gets the chance. But you’re not tellin’ me – are you, lovies? – that shadders isn’t real?”

  “Well – they go through things. And they’re made of nothing,” Jane tried to explain.

  The Bird Woman shook her shadowy head.

  “Nothin’s made of nothin’, lovey. And that’s what they’re for – to go through things. Through and out on the other side – it’s the way they get to be wise. You take my word for it, my loves, when you know what your shadder knows – then you know a lot. Your shadder’s the other part of you, the outside of your inside – if you understand what I mean.”

  “Don’t explain! It’s no use. They don’t understand anything!”

  The portly shadow of Cock Robin came tripping past the bench.

  “They told me only a moment ago that Cock Robin never existed. Well, who was buried, I’d like to know! And why were the birds a-sighing and a-sobbing? Take care, Bo-peep! Do look where you’re going. Those lambs of yours nearly knocked me over!”

  A shadow carrying a crook was skimming through the crowd. And behind her a flock of curly shapes gambolled on the lawn.

  “But I thought Bo-peep had lost her sheep!” cried Michael in surprise.

  “That’s right!” The Bird Woman’s shadow chuckled. “But ’er shadder always finds them.”

  “We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” a trio of voices grunted. Three furry shadows scattered the sheep and bore Bo-peep away.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Jane. “They’re the Three Bears. I hope they’ll do nothing to hurt her.”

  “Hurt her? Bless you, why should they? A shadder never did anyone harm – at least, not as I know of. See! The four of ’em – dancin’ together as friendly as can be!”

  The Bird Woman’s shadow surveyed the scene, beating time to the Piper’s flute. Then suddenly the music changed and she started up with a cry.“’Ere they are at last, lovies! Get up on the bench and look!”

  “Who are here?” demanded Michael. But even as he spoke, he knew.

  The music of the concertina had changed to a stately march. The shadows were clearing a path in their midst. And down between the waving lines came a pair of familiar figures.

  One of them was small and old, with elastic-sided boots on her feet and threepenny bits on her coat.

  And the other – oh, how well they knew it – was carrying a parrot-headed umbrella and wearing a tulip-trimmed hat.

  Tum! Tum! Tee-um, tum, tum! the concertina boomed.

  On they came, the two figures, graciously bowing to all spectators and followed by the bulky forms of Fannie and Annie Corry. Solid flesh and bone they were amid the transparent shapes, and the children saw that their four shadows were firmly attached to their heels.

  A shout of rapture rose from the throng.

  And the sleepers in Cherry Tree Lane shuddered and thrust their heads under their pillows.

  “A Hallowe’en welcome, Mary Poppins! Three cheers for the Birthday Eve!”

  “’Ip, ’Ip, ’Ooray!” yelled the Bird Woman’s shadow.

  “Whose birthday is it?” Jane enquired. She was standing on tiptoe on the bench, trembling with excitement.

  “It’s ’ers – Miss Mary Poppins’ – tomorrer! ’Allowe’en falls on the day before, so of course we make a night of it. Feed the Birds! Tuppence a bag!” she shouted to Mary Poppins.

  The rosy face beneath the tulip smiled at her in acknowledgement. Then it glanced up at the two children and the smile disappeared.

  “Why aren’t you wearing a dressing-gown, Michael? And, Jane, where are your slippers? A fine pair of scarecrows you are – to come to an evening party!”

  “Aha! You were cleverer than I thought! Taking care of your shadows, I hope!” Mrs Corry grinned.

  But before the children had time to reply, the music changed from a solemn march to a reeling, romping dance.

  “Choose your partners! Time’s running out! We must all be back on the stroke of twelve!” The voice of the Policeman’s shadow rose above the laughter.

  “Pray give me the pleasure, dearest friend!” The shadow of the Father Bear bowed to Mrs Corry.

  “A-a-away, you rolling river!” The Admiral’s shadow grasped Miss Andrew’s and whirled it through a litter-basket.

  The Fishmonger’s shadow raised its hat to another that looked like Mrs Brill; the shadow of the Mother Bear floated to Old King Cole. The Prime Minister’s shadow and Aunt Flossie’s jumped up and down in the fountain. And Cock Robin propelled a languid shape whose head hung down on its chest.

  “Wake up, wake up, my good shadow! Who are you? Where do you live?”

  The shadow gave a loud yawn and slumped against Cock Robin. “Mumble, mumble. Broom cupboard. Over across the Lane.”

  Jane and Michael glanced at each other.

  “Robertson Ay!” they said.

  Round and round went the swaying shapes, hand reaching out to hand. And the children’s shadows were everywhere – darting after the Baby Bear or hugging the Dancing Cow.

  “Really!” Mrs Corry trilled. “I haven’t had such an evening out since the days of Good Queen Bess!”

  “How frivolous she is!” said her daughters, as they lumbered along together.

  As for Mary Poppins, she was whirling like a spinning-top from one pair of arms to another. Now it would be the Admiral’s shadow and next it would be Goosey-Gander’s turn. She danced a polka with Cock Robin’s shadow and a waltz with the Park Keeper’s. And when the transparent Butcher claimed her, they broke into a mad gallop, while her own shadow stuck to her shoes and capered after her.

  Twining together and interlacing, the vaporous shapes went by. And Jane and Michael, watching the revels, began to feel quite giddy.

  “I wonder why Mary Poppins’ shadow isn’t free – like the others? It’s dancing beside her all the time. And so is Mrs Corry’s!” Jane turned with a frown to the Bird Woman’s shadow.

  “Ah, she’s cunning – that Mrs Corry! She’s old and she’s learnt a lot. Let ’er shadder escape – not she! Nor Fannie’s and Annie’s either. A
nd as for Mary Poppins’ shadder –” a chuckle shook the broad shape– “It wouldn’t leave ’er if you paid it – not for a thousand pound!”

  “My turn!” cried the shadow of Old King Cole, as he plucked Mary Poppins from the Butcher’s arms and bore her off in triumph.

  ‘Mine too! Mine too!” cried a score of voices. “Haste, haste, no time to waste!”

  Faster and faster the music played as the fateful hour drew nearer. The merriment was at its peak – when suddenly, above the din, came a shrill cry of distress.

  And there, at the edge of the group of dancers, stood a small white-clad figure. It was Mrs Boom, in her dressing-gown, with a lighted candle in her hand, looking like an anxious hen as she gazed at the lively scene.

  “Oh, please,” she pleaded. “Will somebody help me? The Admiral’s in such a state. He’s threatening to sink the ship because he’s lost his shadow. Ah, there you are!” Her face brightened as she spied the shape she sought. “He’s ranting and roaring so dreadfully – won’t you please come home?”

  The Admiral’s shadow heaved a sigh.

  “I leave him for one night in the year – and he threatens to sink the ship? Now, that’s a thing I’d never do. He’s nothing but a spoilt child – no sense of responsibility. But I cannot disoblige you, ma’am.”

  He waved his hand to his fellow-shadows and lightly blew a kiss each to Mary Poppins and Mrs Corry.

  “Farewell and Adieu to you, sweet Spanish ladies!” he sang as he turned away.

  “So kind of you!” chirped Mrs Boom, as she tripped beside him with her candle. “Who’s that?” she called, as they came to the Gate. “Surely it can’t be you, Miss Lark?”

  A night gowned figure was rushing through it, wrapped in a tartan shawl. And beside her, two excited dogs snatched at the trailing fringes.

  “It can! It is!” Miss Lark replied, as she dashed across the lawn. “Oh, dear!” she moaned, as she came to the swings. “I dreamed that my shadow had run away – and when I woke up it was true. Alas, alas, what shall I do? I can’t get along without it!”

  She turned her tearful eyes to the dancers and her eyebrows went up with a jerk.

  “Goodgraciousme, Lucinda Emily! What are you doing here? Dancing? With strangers? In the Park? I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

  “Friends – not strangers!” a voice replied, as a shadow decked in scarves and beads fluttered out of the crowd. “I’m gayer than you think, Lucinda. And so are you, if you but knew it. Why are you always fussing and fretting instead of enjoying yourself? If you stood on your head occasionally, I’d never run away!”

  “Well. . .” Miss Lark said doubtfully. It seemed such a strange idea.

  “Come home and let’s try it together!” Her shadow took her by the hand.

  “I will, I will!” Miss Lark declared. And her two dogs looked at each other in horror at the thought of such a thing. “We’ll practise on the drawing-room hearthrug, Professor! What are you doing out at night? Think of your rheumatism!”

  The Lane Gate opened with a creak and the Professor ambled over the grass with his hand clasped to his brow.

  “Alack!” he cried. “I’ve lost something. But I can’t remember what it is.”

  “L-look for L-lost P-property in the L-litter-b-basket!” a trembling voice advised him. The Park Keeper, dodging from bush to bush, was edging towards the dancers.

  “I ’ad to come.” His teeth chattered. “I must do my duty to the Park no matter what goes on!”

  From behind the big magnolia tree he stared at the rollicking scene.

  “Golly!” he muttered, reeling backwards. “It’s enough to give you the shivers! Ow! Look out! There’s one of ’em comin’!”

  A shadow broke away from the rest and floated towards the Professor.

  “Lost something, I heard you say. And can’t think what it is? Now, that’s a strange coincidence – I’m in the same plight!”

  It peered short-sightedly at the Professor and a sudden smile of recognition spread across its face.

  “My dear fellow – can it be? It is. We’ve lost each other!”

  A pair of long, transparent arms enfolded the tweed jacket. The Professor gave a crow of delight.

  “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 around 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, tum. Tee-um, tum.

  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 ’appening 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 da
rk 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 bath-robe 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.