Mary Poppins Comes Back

by P. L. Travers

  Well! You can imagine how lonely the Queen was. Sometimes the Prime Minister would shuffle cautiously to the throne and pat her hand kindly. Sometimes the little page who filled the inkwells would raise his eyes and smile at her from behind the King’s back. But neither the old man nor the boy could spare much time to amuse the Queen, for fear of losing their heads.

  You must not think the King meant to be unkind. Indeed, it seemed to him that his subjects were luckier than most, for hadn’t they a King who knew practically everything? But while he was busy gathering knowledge his people grew poorer and poorer. Houses fell into ruin and fields went untilled, because the King needed all the men to help him in his thinking.

  As for the women, they were very cross. It seemed to them that the King’s knowledge was nothing but Stuff and Nonsense. For how could you feed the baby on facts or pay the rent by thinking? Even the Cowherds and the Goose-girls were discontented. And when you remember that these are usually the happiest people in the world – (because they know they are princes and princesses in disguise) – well, you will realise the state of the kingdom.

  At last there came a day when the King and the courtiers were busy, as usual, at their desks in the Council Chamber. The Queen sat listening to the scratching of pens and the squeaking of mice in the wainscot. And presently, as she sat so still, a bold mouse streaked across the floor and began to wash its whiskers right under the throne. The Queen gave a little frightened gasp. But she quickly clapped her hand to her mouth for fear of disturbing the King. Then she pulled her ermine train about her and sat trembling within it. And at that moment, over the edge of her hand, her startled eyes glanced across the room and saw on the threshold – a cat.

  A small cat it was, as fluffy as a dandelion, and white as sugar from tail to whisker. It walked with a lazy swinging step as though it had nothing at all to do and all Time to do it in. A pair of green eyes glowed in its head as it sauntered through the door.

  For a moment it paused at the carpet’s edge, glancing curiously at the King and the courtiers as they bent above their books. Then the green eyes turned towards the Queen. The Cat gave a start and its body stiffened. Up went its back like the hump of a camel. Its whiskers stretched into threads of steel. Then it leapt across the Council Chamber and dived beneath the throne. There was a hoarse cat-cry. And a smothered squeak. And the mouse was there no longer.

  “Silence, please! Don’t make such extraordinary noises, my dear! They interrupt my thoughts!” said the King fractiously.

  “It wasn’t me,” said the Queen timidly. “It was a Cat.”

  “Cats?” said the King absent-mindedly, without even lifting his head. “Cats are four-footed creatures covered with fur. They are found, either wild or domesticated, in all quarters of the globe, with the single exception of the Polar circles. They eat mice, fish, liver and birds, and communicate either in a purr or a caterwaul, according to their mood. They keep themselves to themselves and are popularly supposed to possess nine lives. For further information on Cats, see Page Two, Volume Seven, Shelf D in Library Number Five to the left as you go in the door. Here! Hi! What’s all this?”

  With a start the King looked up from his page. For the Cat was sitting on the desk before him.

  “Kindly be careful!” the King said crossly. “You’re right on my latest facts. They deal with a very important question. Do turkeys really come from Turkey and if not, why? Well, what do you want? Speak up! Don’t mumble! I’m rather deaf!”

  “I want to have a look at you,” the Cat said calmly, as it whisked its tail round the inkwell.

  “Oho! You do, do you? Well, a Cat may look at a King, they say! And I’ve no objection. Go ahead!”

  The King leant backwards in his chair and turned his face from left to right so the Cat could see both sides.

  The Cat gazed thoughtfully at the King and the courtiers put down their pens and stared.

  There was a long pause.

  “Well?” said the King, with a tolerant smile. “And what do you think of me, may I ask?”

  “Not much,” said the Cat casually, licking its right front paw.

  The courtiers shuddered and grabbed their pens.

  “What?” cried the King. “Not much, indeed! My poor ignorant animal, you are evidently not aware which King you are looking at!”

  “All kings are pretty much alike,” said the Cat.

  “Nothing of the kind,” the King said angrily. “I defy you to name a single king who knows as much as I do. Why, professors come from the ends of the earth to consult with me for half an hour. My collection of facts is unsurpassed. My court is composed of the Very Best People. Jack-the-Giant-Killer digs my garden. My flocks are tended by no less a person than Bo-Peep. And all my pies contain Four-and-Twenty Blackbirds. Not much to look at, forsooth! And who are you, I’d like to know, to speak to a King like that!”

  “Oh, just a cat,” the Cat replied. “Four legs and a tail and a couple of whiskers.”

  “I can see that for myself!” snapped the King. “It doesn’t matter to me what you look like. What I care about is, how much do you know?”

  “Oh, everything,” the Cat said calmly, as it licked the tip of its tail.

  “What!” The King burst out with an angry splutter. “Well, of all the vain, conceited creatures! I’ve a jolly good mind to chop off your head.”

  “So you shall,” said the Cat. “But all in good time.”

  “Know everything! Why, you preposterous animal! There’s no one alive – not even myself – who could be as wise as that!”

  “With the single exception of cats,” said the Cat. “All cats, I assure you, know everything!”

  “Very well,” growled the King. “But you’ve got to prove it. If you’re so clever I shall ask you three questions. And then we shall see what we’ll see.”

  He smiled a supercilious smile. If the wretched Cat insisted on boasting, it would have to take the consequences!

  “Now,” he said, leaning back in his chair and putting his fingers together. “My first question is—”

  “One moment, please!” the Cat said calmly. “I cannot undertake to answer your questions until we have settled the terms. No cat would do anything so foolish. I am prepared to make a bargain with you. And these are my conditions. It is agreed between us that you shall ask me three questions. After that, it is only fair that I should question you. And whichever one of us wins the contest shall have command of your kingdom.”

  The courtiers dropped their pens in surprise. The King’s eyes goggled with astonishment.

  But he swallowed the words that sprang to his mouth and gave a disdainful laugh.

  “Very well,” he said haughtily. “It’s a great waste of time and you, not I, will be the one to regret it. But I accept your bargain.”

  “Then take off your crown,” commanded the Cat, “and lay it on the table between us.”

  The King tore the crown from his tattered head and the jewels flashed in the sunlight.

  “Let’s get this nonsense over and done with! I have to go on with my work,” he said crossly. “Are you ready? Well, here is my first question. If you laid them carefully, end to end, how many six-foot men would it take to go right round the Equator?”

  “That’s easy,” the Cat replied, with a smile. “You simply divide the length by six.”

  “Aha!” cried the King with a crafty look. “That’s all very well – but what is the length?”

  “Any length you like,” the Cat said airily. “It doesn’t really exist, you know. The Equator is purely an imaginary line.”

  The courtiers looked at each other in horror. They had never heard anyone talk like this.

  The King’s face darkened with disapproval.

  “Well,” he said sulkily, “tell me this. What is the difference between an Elephant and a Railway Porter?”

  “No difference at all,” said the Cat at once. “Because they both carry trunks.”

  “But – but – but – but
. . .” the King protested hotly. “These are not the answers I expected. You really must try to be more serious.”

  “I can’t help what you expected,” said the Cat. “These are the proper replies to your questions, as any cat will tell you.”

  The King made an angry click with his tongue.

  “This nonsense is getting beyond a joke! It’s a farce! It’s nothing but twiddle-twaddle. Well, here is my third question – if you can answer it.”

  You could see by the smile on the King’s face that this time he thought he had the Cat exactly where he wanted it.

  He held up a pompous hand and began.

  “If a dozen men, working eight hours a day, had to dig a hole ten-and-a-half miles deep – how long would it be, including Sundays, before they put down their spades?”

  The King’s eyes shone with a cunning triumph. He gazed at the Cat with a look of triumph. But the Cat had its answer ready.

  “Two seconds,” it said quickly, with a little flick of its tail.

  “Two seconds! Are you mad? The answer’s in years!” The King rubbed his hands together with glee at the thought of the Cat’s mistake.

  “I repeat,” said the Cat. “It would take them two seconds. To dig such a hole would be utterly foolish. ‘Ten miles deep?’ they would say. ‘Why, what on earth for?’”

  “That isn’t the point,” the King said angrily.

  “But every question must have a point. A point is exactly what questions are for. And now,” said the Cat, “it’s my turn, I believe!”

  The King gave an angry shrug of his shoulders. Who was this perfectly ordinary cat, to sit on his desk and ask him questions!

  “Well, be quick. You’ve wasted enough of my time!”

  “My questions are short and very simple,” the Cat assured him. “A cat could solve them in a flick of the whisker. Let us hope that a King will be equally clever. Now, here is my first. How high is the sky?”

  The King gave a grunt of satisfaction. This was exactly the kind of question he liked, and he smiled a knowing smile.

  “Well, of course,” he began, “it all depends. If you measured it from a level plain it would be one height. From the top of a mountain another. And after taking this into account, we should have to determine the latitude and longitude, the amplitude, magnitude and multitude, not forgetting the atmospherics, mathematics, acrobatics and hysterics; and the general depressions, expressions, impressions and confessions, together with—”

  “Excuse me,” interrupted the Cat. “But that is not the answer. Try again, please. How high is the sky?”

  The King’s eyes popped with angry astonishment. Nobody had ever dared to interrupt him before.

  “The sky,” he bellowed, “is – er – it’s. . . Well, of course I can’t tell you in so many yards. Neither could anyone else, I assure you. It is probably—”

  “I want an exact reply,” said the Cat. He glanced from the King to the gaping courtiers. “Has anyone here, in this hall of learning, the answer to my question?”

  Nervously glancing at the King, the Prime Minister raised a trembling hand.

  “I have always supposed,” he murmured shyly, “that the sky was just a little higher than the Eagle flies. I’m an old man, of course, and I’m probably wrong—”

  The Cat clapped its sugar-white paws together.

  “No! No! You are right,” it protested gently. And the green eye lingered for a moment on the frightened eyes of the old Prime Minister.

  The King gave a sullen snort of rage.

  “Tomfoolery! Nonsensical bosh!”

  The Cat held up its paws for silence. “Will you answer my second question, please! Where is the sweetest milk to be found?”

  Immediately the King’s face cleared, and took on a confident smirk.

  “As simple as ABC,” he said loftily. “The answer, of course, is Sardinia. For there the cows live on honey and roses and their milk is as sweet as Golden Syrup. Or perhaps I should say the Elegant Islands, where they feed upon nothing but sugar cane. Or Greece, where they browse in the Candytuft. Now, taking into consideration—”

  “I can take nothing into consideration,” said the Cat, “except the fact that you have not answered my question. Where is the sweetest milk, O King?”

  “I know!” cried the little Page, pausing for a moment above a half-filled inkwell. “In a saucer by the fire.”

  The Cat gave the child an approving nod and yawned in the face of the King.

  “I thought you were so clever!” it said slyly. “You may indeed be the wisest of Kings – but somebody else has answered my question. Do not frown, however –” for the King was glowering at the Page – “you still have one more chance to win. Here is my third question. What is the strongest thing in the world?”

  The King’s eyes glittered. He took his beard in his skinny fingers and stroked it complacently. This time he was certain he had the right answer.

  “The Tiger,” he said thoughtfully, “is a very strong thing. So also are the Horse and the Lion. Then, of course, there are the tides of the sea. And the granite veins of the mountains. Volcanoes too have a mighty strength and the snowy caps of ice at the Poles. Or, again, it might be the Wall of China—”

  “Or again it might not!” the Cat broke in. “Can anyone tell me the strongest thing?”

  It glanced once more round the Council Chamber. And this time it was the Queen who spoke.

  “I think,” she said gently, “it must be Patience. For, in the long run, it is Patience that overcomes all things.”

  The green eyes dwelt gravely upon her for a moment.

  “It is indeed,” the Cat agreed quickly. And turning, it laid a paw on the crown.

  “O, wisest of monarchs!” cried the Cat. “You are, without doubt, a mighty scholar and I am a common-or-garden cat. But I have answered all three of your questions and you have not answered one of mine. The result of the contest is clear, I think. The crown belongs to me.”

  The King gave a short contemptuous laugh.

  “Don’t be so silly! What would you do with it? You can’t make laws and rule the people. You don’t even know how to read or write. Turn over my kingdom to a Cat? I’m hanged if I will!”

  The Cat smiled broadly.

  “I see that your wisdom does not include a knowledge of fairy-tales. If it did, you would know that it is only necessary to cut off a cat’s head to discover a Prince in disguise.”

  “Fairy-tales? Pooh! They’re nothing to me. I’m thinking about my kingdom.”

  “Your kingdom,” said the Cat, “if you’ll forgive me mentioning it, is no longer your affair. All that need concern you now is quickly to cut off my head. The rest you may leave to me. Furthermore, since you apparently have no use for them, I shall take into my service this wise man, your Prime Minister, this understanding woman, your wife, and this sensible child, your Page. Let them get their hats and come with me and together we four shall rule the kingdom.”

  “But what’s going to happen to me?” cried the King. “Where shall I go? How shall I live?”

  The Cat’s eyes narrowed sternly.

  “You should have thought of that before. Most people think twice before making a bargain with a cat. Well, out with your sword now, learnt man! And I trust the blade is sharp.”

  “Stop!” cried the Prime Minister, as he laid his hand on the hilt of the King’s sword. Then he turned to the Cat and bowed respectfully.

  “Sir,” he said quietly, “listen to me! It is true that you have won the crown, in fair and equal contest. And it may be you are indeed a Prince. But I must decline your offer. I have served the King faithfully since the days when I was a page in his father’s court. And whether he be crowned or uncrowned, head of a kingdom or a tramp on the lonely roads, I love him and he needs me. I will not go with you.”

  “Nor I,” said the Queen, as she rose from her golden throne. “I have stood at the King’s side since he was young and comely. I have waited for him in silence throug
h long, lonely years. Whether he be wise or foolish, rich or without bread, I love him and I need him. I will not go with you.”

  “Nor I,” said the little Page, as he corked up his bottle of ink. “This is the only home I have ever known. And the King is my king and I am sorry for him. Besides, I like filling up the inkwells. I will not go with you.”

  At that the Cat smiled a curious smile and its green eyes shone on the three who had refused him.

  “What have you to say to this, O King?” said the Cat as it turned to the desk.

  But no words came to answer the question. For the King was weeping.

  Hurriedly the Prime Minister tucked his own handkerchief between the King’s fingers. And the Queen came and stood beside him with her hands clasped over her heart.

  “O wise man, why do you weep?” asked the Cat.

  “Because I am ashamed,” sobbed the King. “I boasted about how clever I was. I thought I knew everything – pretty nearly. And now I find that an old man and a woman and a little lad are all far wiser than I am. Do not try to comfort me!” he wept, as the Queen and the Prime Minister touched his hands. “I am not worth it. I know nothing at all. Not even who I am.”

  He hid his face in the crook of his arm. “Oh, I know that I’m a King!” he cried. “I know my name and address, of course! But I do not know, after all these years, who I really, truly am!”

  “Look at me and you will find out,” said the Cat quietly.

  “But I h-h-have looked at you!” sobbed the King into his handkerchief.

  “Not really,” the Cat insisted gently. “You have only glanced at me, now and again. A Cat may look at a King, you say. But a King may also look at a Cat. If you did that, you would know who you are. Look in my eyes – and see!”

  The King took his face out of the handkerchief and peered at the Cat through his tears. His eyes wandered over the calm white face and came at last to the Cat’s green eyes. Within that shining, piercing gaze he saw his own reflection.

  “Closer. Closer,” the Cat commanded.

  Obediently the King bent nearer.

  And as he gazed at those fathomless eyes, a change came over the man within them. Slowly, his thin, pinched face grew fatter. The pale cheeks plumped into round red pouches and the wrinkles smoothed themselves out of his brow. Bright locks of brown curled upon his head; a brown beard sprang from his greying chin. His eyes began to shine and glow and their light spread over his changing face. The King gave a start of surprise and smiled. And a big, broad, rosy man smiled back from the mirroring eyes of the Cat.