“Fairies?” said Meg.
“Not real fairies,” said Mrs Merry, “and that’s what I’ve come about. I wanted to ask you if you’d like to help. We shall need quite big people, because I’m planning to have a really huge box of crackers. Now, how would you like to be the fairies?”
“Oh, yes!” said Miriam.
“What—me?” said Martyn.
“Oh, no!” said Mervyn.
“Oh, yes!” said Meg.
“No, not you boys,” said Mrs Merry. “I meant Miriam and Meg.”
Martyn and Mervyn looked relieved, and Miriam and Meg were delighted.
“But what shall we wear?” they said.
Mrs Merry said she had two fairy dresses that would just fit them.
“They used to belong to Barbara and Bunty,” she said, “but the dresses are too small now, and, anyway, Barbara and Bunty have grown too fat to be fairies any more—so we thought it would be lovely if you two would do it. But don’t tell anyone. It is to be a surprise.”
Mary-Mary, under the table, said to Moppet, “Shall I tell you a story? Once upon a time there were two huge great fairies—”
“Mary-Mary!” said Miriam. “Go away at once. You shouldn’t have been listening.”
“—and their names both began with an M—” went on Mary-Mary.
“Oh, do go away!” said Miriam and Meg.
“—they were called Margarine and Marmalade—” said Mary-Mary.
“Shall we push her out?” said Martyn.
“Take me away!” said Mary-Mary in Moppet’s voice. “I don’t believe in fairies—I only believe in mice.”
Mary-Mary crawled out from under the table, saying to Moppet, “Very well, I’ll take you away and tell you a mouse story.” And she went into the kitchen where Mother was busy cooking the dinner.
Mary-Mary sat under the draining-board and told Moppet his mouse story, which went like this, “Once upon a time there was a poor little mouse who had a very bad cold, and it got worse and worse, until somebody gave him an ice-cream, and then all of a sudden it got better.”
Mother looked up from her cooking.
“How bad is Moppet’s cold now?” she asked.
“It is a bit worse,” said Mary-Mary, “but I don’t think he’ll die of it—at least, not yet—at least, I hope not.”
“Do you think an ice-cream would help him?” asked Mother.
“Oh, yes,” said Mary-Mary. “What a good idea!”
So Mother gave her threepence, and Mary-Mary ran down to the shop and bought an ice-cream. On the way back she saw Mrs Merry coming down the road.
“I mustn’t stop and talk to her,” said Mary-Mary to herself. “I must hurry home to my poor child, Moppet, who has such a nasty cold. I will talk to her another day.”
So she put her head down and began to run. She was hoping that if she ran fast enough Mrs Merry wouldn’t have time to see who it was. But Mrs Merry called out, “Why, Mary-Mary! You’re just the person I want to see.” So Mary-Mary had to stop, after all.
“You heard all about the plan for my party, didn’t you?” said Mrs Merry. “Well, I’m planning a surprise at the end that I didn’t tell the others about. I need someone very little to help me do it, and you’re just the person I want. Now, will you come to my party secretly, without anyone knowing? Mr Merry will fetch you in the car while the party is going on. I have a lovely little dress for you to wear, and I want you to come as the big surprise when the clock strikes midnight. Do you think you would like to be the surprise at my party?”
“Oh, yes!” said Mary-Mary. “I’ve quite often been a surprise by mistake, but it would be very nice to be a surprise on purpose.”
“I’ve asked your mother,” said Mrs Merry, “and she says it will be quite all right. She knows all about it and she’s not going to tell any of the others; so you mustn’t either. Come to tea with me today, and we will plan it together.”
Mary-Mary ran home feeling very pleased indeed. Moppet’s ice-cream was nearly melted by the time she got there, so she gave it to him in a tea-cup. She sang so loudly while she was helping him to eat it that Miriam, Martyn, Mervyn, and Meg were quite surprised.
“Why is Mary-Mary so happy all of a sudden?” they said.
“Mrs Merry has asked her to tea today,” said Mother.
“Oh, because she can’t go to the party!” they said.
“Is Moppet’s cold better now?” asked Mother.
“Quite, quite better,” said Mary-Mary, licking up the last of the ice-cream. “I knew it would be.”
When New Year’s Eve came Miriam, Martyn, Mervyn, and Meg were all very excited. Mary-Mary watched them getting ready for the party and tried not to look excited too.
She went to bed in her underclothes, with a nightie on top so that the others wouldn’t guess. (She was going to have supper on a tray when they had gone, and Mother had promised to read her a story until it was time for Mr Merry to come and fetch her.)
When they were ready to go Miriam, Martyn, Mervyn, and Meg all came to say good-night to her. Mary-Mary hid under the blankets, because she couldn’t help laughing, and they thought she was hiding because she was sad about not going to the party. So they were all very kind to her.
“Never mind, Mary-Mary,” they said. “When you’re bigger you will be able to go to a New Year party too.”
Miriam said, “Don’t cry. I’ll give you one of my party hair ribbons tomorrow.”
Martyn said, “Cheer up, and I’ll bring you back something nice to eat.”
Mervyn said, “I’ll save you my paper serviette. It will make a tablecloth for Moppet.”
And Meg said, “Go to sleep now, like a good girl, and I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”
Mary-Mary (still under the blankets) said, “Thank you” and “Good-bye” and “Have a nice time”; and then off they all went.
It was a lovely party. Miriam, Martyn, Mervyn, and Meg had a very jolly time.
A little while before midnight Miriam and Meg slipped away to put on their fairy clothes. As they ran through the hall on their way upstairs they saw Mr Merry just coming in at the front door with a great big round box in his arms.
“Hallo!” he said. “Are you having a good time?”
“Oh, yes!” they said, both together.
“And where are the rest of your family?” asked Mr Merry.
“Martyn and Mervyn are in the sitting-room with the others,” said Miriam.
“And Mary-Mary is fast asleep in bed,” said Meg.
“Why?” said Mr Merry. “Has she been naughty?”
“Oh, no!” said Miriam and Meg together, “but she’s much too little to come to a New Year party.”
“You two are going to be the fairies, aren’t you?” said Mr Merry.
“Yes,” they said. “Are those the crackers in that box? Can we see?”
“Not to be opened till midnight!” said Mr Merry, laughing. “You will be careful not to drop it, won’t you? It is heavier than you might think.”
He carried the box into the kitchen and shut the door, and Miriam and Meg ran on upstairs to change.
In the sitting-room Martyn and Mervyn were very busy. Mrs Merry had put them in charge of the games (with Billy and Bob to help them) while she went away to see to one or two things. Barbara and Bunty were seeing to the refreshments.
They had just finished a game of Blind Man’s Buff when Mrs Merry came back, looking very jolly.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“It’s nearly midnight!” shouted all the children, pointing at the clock.
“So it is!” said Mrs Merry. “Now, stand back, all of you, and make a way through. I believe I hear someone coming.”
Everyone stood back. Then the door opened and in came a very old man with a long white beard. He limped across the room, leaning heavily on a stick, and peered up at the clock.
“Who is he?” somebody whispered.
Everyone started talking at once. “I
know! He’s the Old Year!” “How wonderful!” “And he’s looking at the clock, because he’s only got another minute left!” (But hardly anyone guessed it was really Mr Merry dressed up.)
As the clock began striking twelve the old man turned and hobbled out of the room. At the same minute there was the sound of bells ringing, and two fairies came running in, carrying a large round box between them. They looked so pretty in their pink-and-blue dresses with silver wings that every one started clapping and saying, “Oh, aren’t they lovely!” (But hardly anyone guessed it was really Miriam and Meg.)
The fairies put the big box down on the floor and smiled and curtseyed. Then, on the last stroke of twelve, they bent down and lifted the lid.
“OH!” cried everyone, “Oh, just look! How sweet!” For there, rising out of the box with her arms full of crackers, was the sweetest little fairy person. She was wearing a short white frock and a silver crown with a star on her head.
“It’s the little New Year!” they all cried. “Oh, isn’t she sweet? What a lovely idea! Who can she be?”
And, of course, it was Mary-Mary!
“Happy New Year, everybody!” she called, and, climbing out of the box, she threw the crackers to everyone.
Miriam and Meg, as well as Martyn and Mervyn, could hardly believe their eyes.
“It’s Mary-Mary!” they all said. “However did she get here?” “We left her at home in bed!” “But doesn’t she look pretty!”
And after a while, when they had stopped being quite so surprised, they began to feel rather proud of Mary-Mary.
Everyone began asking who the sweet little girl really was, and Miriam, Martyn, Mervyn, and Meg wandered around saying, “Oh, that’s our little sister, Mary-Mary.”
“Didn’t you know she was coming?” someone asked.
“No,” they said. “We were surprised. Yes, she is rather sweet, isn’t she? We’re quite proud of her.”
Mary-Mary, sitting on Mrs Merry’s lap, eating a chocolate ice-cream, heard all this and smiled to herself. She was rather surprised too.
So Mary-Mary did go to the New Year party after all, and that is the end of the story.
For SYLVIA MAY
1
Mary-Mary Has a Photograph Taken
MARY-MARY was the youngest of five. All her brothers and sisters were very big and clever, and knew all about everything; but Mary-Mary didn’t know much about anything. So all her big brothers and sisters, who were called Miriam, Martyn, Mervyn, and Meg, used to tell her what to do and how to do it. But Mary-Mary liked doing things her own way. So she used to say, “No, I shan’t. I’ll do it the other way.”
And that, of course, is why she was called Mary-Mary instead of just Mary, which was her real name.
One day Mary-Mary’s mother said, “I think it is time you had your photographs taken again. We haven’t had a proper one done since you were all quite little.”
“Mary-Mary is still quite little,” said Miriam.
“But she was a baby last time,” said Martyn.
“And she kept wriggling and screeching,” said Mervyn.
“And pulling my hair-ribbon,” said Meg.
Then they all started talking at once, saying, “Don’t let’s have our photographs taken all together.” “Let’s each have one of our own.” “Then they can all go in separate frames.”
But Mother said, “I’m afraid that would cost far too much. Besides, I should like to have one of all five of you. Then I could put it on top of my writing-desk, where all my friends could see it.”
“What shall we wear?” said Miriam.
“Jeans and a jersey,” said Martyn.
“Space suits, said Mervyn.
“My party dress,” said Meg.
“I shan’t wear anything,” said Mary-Mary.
“What!” said all the others.
“Anything special, I mean,” said Mary-Mary.
Mother said she didn’t think it mattered much what they wore so long as they were all clean and tidy, and remembered to smile and look pleasant.
“You will have to sit quite still, Mary-Mary,” said Miriam.
“And not make silly faces,” said Martyn.
“Or talk all the time,” said Mervyn.
“And you have to smile at the camera,” said Meg.
“I think it’s silly to smile at a camera,” said Mary-Mary. “I shall smile at the man. Unless I don’t like him. Then I shan’t smile at all.”
“It might be a lady,” said Meg.
“I still shan’t smile if I don’t like her,” said Mary-Mary.
Then Miriam, Martyn, Mervyn, and Meg all started saying together, “Mother, Mary-Mary’s going to spoil the photograph.” “She says she’s not going to smile.” “Don’t let’s have it done with her.” “Can’t she have a snapshot taken in the garden?”
But Mother said, “Don’t be silly, all of you. Of course, Mary-Mary will smile. Just leave her alone and I’m sure she’ll behave beautifully.”
Mary-Mary had just begun planning what awful face she would make in front of the camera, because the others were all so sure she was going to spoil the photograph. But when she heard Mother say she was sure she would behave beautifully she changed her mind.
She began practising her smile instead. She smiled at the floor and she smiled at the ceiling. She smiled at the table, she smiled at the chairs, she smiled at everything she could see. But the more she smiled the queerer it felt, and after a while she didn’t feel as if she was smiling at all. It made her face ache. So, just to give her face a rest, she blew out her cheeks and crossed her eyes. Then she tried on the smile again.
‘Why are you making such awful faces, Mary-Mary?” said Miriam.
“I’m not,” said Mary-Mary, rather surprised. “I’m getting ready to have my photograph taken.”
“Oh, dear, I know she’s going to spoil it!” said Mirian to Mother. “Can’t we all be done separately?”
And Martyn and Mervyn said, “Yes, do let’s.”
And Meg said, “Can I have mine in the silver frame?”
But Mother said, “No. I think you’re all being very silly. And, in any case, there’s a photograph in the silver frame already—one of Miriam and Martyn when they were babies. Now, do leave Mary-Mary alone. She’ll be perfectly all right if you don’t worry her.”
Mary-Mary went out and looked in the hall mirror to see if her smile really looked as funny as it felt. She tried smiling at herself for quite a long time. But the longer she looked at her face in the glass the queerer it looked.
“It’s funny,” she said to herself. “It’s quite easy to smile by mistake, but it’s really very difficult to smile on purpose. Perhaps it’s because I’m not smiling at anyone. I’ll try again at dinner-time.”
Then, just to give her face a rest, she tried making some interesting new faces that were very ugly indeed.
“They may come in useful next time the others are rude to me,” she said to herself.
At dinner-time Miriam said to Mary-Mary, “Why are you making that extraordinary face at me?”
“I’m not,” said Mary-Mary. “I’m smiling at you.”
“Well, don’t,” said Miriam. “It looks awful.”
Mary-Mary made one of her interesting new faces instead, but Miriam pretended not to see.
A little later Mother said, “What’s the matter, Mary-Mary, dear? Have you got a tummy ache?”
“No,” said Mary-Mary. “I’m smiling at you.”
Mother looked surprised. Then she said, “That isn’t your ordinary smile, darling. What are you doing it for?”
“I’m practising for the photograph,” said Mary-Mary.
“There you are, you see!” said Miriam, Martyn, Mervyn, and Meg, all together. “What did we tell you?” “She is going to spoil it!” “She’s practising all these awful faces to make in front of the camera.”
Mary-Mary didn’t make the rest of her interesting new faces at them, because no one was looking at her. In
stead she decided to save them for another time, and went away to find Moppet, her toy mouse.
Moppet was lying under the chest of drawers in the bedroom. Mary-Mary pulled him out, brushed the fluff off his fur, and stared closely into his tiny black eyes.
“Watch carefully, Moppet,” she said. Then she smiled at him.
“What did I look like?” asked Mary-Mary.
“Oh, you looked just like a toothpaste lady!” she said in Moppet’s voice.
“Good,” said Mary-Mary. “I hoped I did.”
She went back to the sitting-room, put her head round the door, and said, “Moppet says I smile just like a toothpaste lady.”
Then, before anyone could answer, she shut the door quickly and went away to play in the garden.
The very next day they all got ready to go to the photographer’s. They had their shoes polished, their nails scrubbed, and their hair brushed, and Mother said she had never seen them all looking so clean and neat and tidy all at the same time.
When they got to the photographer’s a lady with golden hair smiled at them a great deal, and showed them into a room behind the shop, where there was a thick carpet on the floor and a large camera standing in the corner.
Mary-Mary liked the colour of the lady’s hair very much, but she decided to save her smile for when the photograph was taken, in case she couldn’t do it twice.
The lady found a chair for Mother in a corner behind the camera; then she looked at all the children, still smiling, and said to Mother, “How would you like them taken—all together or one at a time?”
Mother said, “All together, please. I think I would like them standing in a row.”
“Yes,” said the lady, “that would make a very nice picture.
So Miriam, Martyn, Mervyn, Meg, and Mary-Mary all stood in a row together, while the lady turned on a very bright light and did things to the camera. She kept smiling all the time as she bobbed up and down this way and that, looking at them from every direction and saying, “Yes, that’s lovely. Now keep just like that, can you?”
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