“There, what did I tell you?” screamed Humpty-Dumpty. “How dare you suggest I’m a Broken Egg!”
He turned his back upon them rudely and his big cracked head shone white in the moonlight.
“Don’t argue with him! It’s no good,” said Alfred. “He’s always so touchy about that fall. Here! Step on your own toes! Look who you’re pushin’!” He turned and made a sweep with his trunk and a crowned Lion lightly leapt aside.
“Sorry!” exclaimed the Lion politely. “It’s such a frightful crush tonight. Have you seen the Unicorn, by the way? Ah, there he is! Hi! Wait a minute!” And, growling softly in his throat, he pounced upon a silvery figure that was daintily trotting by.
“Oh, stop him! Stop him!” Jane cried anxiously. “He’s going to beat the Unicorn all round the Town!”
“Not tonight,” said Alfred reassuringly. “You just watch!”
Jane and Michael stared with astonishment as they saw the Lion bowing. Then he took the golden crown from his head and offered it to the Unicorn.
“It’s your turn to wear it,” the Lion said courteously. Then the two exchanged a tender embrace and danced off into the crowd.
“Children behaving nicely tonight?” they heard the Unicorn enquire of a withered old woman who was dancing past. She was pulling along an enormous Shoe, full of laughing boys and girls.
“Oh, so nicely!” cried the Old Woman gaily. “I haven’t used my whip once! Georgie Porgie is such a help with the girls. They insist on being kissed tonight. And as for the boys, they’re just sugar and spice. Look at Red Riding Hood hugging that Wolf! She’s trying to teach him to beg for supper. Sit down, please, Muffet. And hold on tight.”
She waved her whip at a fair little girl who sat at the back of the Shoe. She was deep in conversation with a large black Spider; and as the Shoe went rumbling past, she reached out her hand and patted him gently.
“She’s not even running away!” cried Michael. “Why isn’t she frightened?” he wanted to know.
“Because of the Crack,” said Alfred again, as he hurried them before him.
Jane and Michael couldn’t help staring at Red Riding Hood and Miss Muffet. Fancy not being afraid of the Wolf and that black enormous Spider!
Then a filmy whiteness brushed them lightly and they turned to find a shining shape yawning behind its hand.
“Still sleepy, Beauty?” trumped Alfred, as he slipped his trunk round her waist.
She patted the trunk and leant against him.
“I was deep in a dream,” she murmured softly. “But the First Stroke, luckily, woke me up!”
As she said that, Michael’s curiosity could contain itself no longer.
“But I don’t understand!” he burst out loudly. “Everything’s upside down tonight! Why doesn’t the Spider frighten Miss Muffet? And the Lion beat the Unicorn?”
“Alfred has told you,” said Sleeping Beauty. “Because we are all in the Crack.”
“What Crack?” demanded Michael.
“The Crack between the Old Year and the New. The Old Year dies on the First Stroke of Midnight and the New Year is born on the Last Stroke. And in between – while the other ten strokes are sounding – there lies the secret Crack.”
“Yes?” said Jane breathlessly, for she wanted to know more.
The Sleeping Beauty gave a charming yawn and smiled upon the children.
“And inside the Crack all things are at one. The eternal opposites meet and kiss. The wolf and the lamb lie down together, the dove and the serpent share one nest. The stars bend down and touch the earth and the young and the old forgive each other. Night and day meet here, so do the poles. The East leans over towards the West and the circle is complete. This is the time and place, my darlings – the only time and the only place – where everybody lives happily ever after. Look!”
The Sleeping Beauty waved her hand.
Jane and Michael, glancing past it, saw three Bears hopping clumsily round a little bright-haired girl.
“Goldilocks,” explained the Sleeping Beauty. “As safe and sound as you are. Oh, good evening, Punch! How’s the baby, Judy?”
She waved to a pair of long-nosed puppets who were strolling arm in arm. “They’re a loving couple tonight, you see, because they’re inside the Crack. Oh, look!”
This time she pointed to a towering figure. His great feet stamped upon the lawn and his head was as high as the tallest tree. A huge club was balanced on one shoulder; and perched on the other sat a laughing boy who was tweaking the big man’s ear.
“That’s Jack-the-Giant-Killer with his Giant. The two are bosom friends tonight. “The Sleeping Beauty glanced up, smiling. “And here, at last, come the Witches!”
There was a whirr above the children’s heads as a group of beady-eyed old women swooped through the air on broomsticks. A cry of welcome rose to greet them as they plunged into the crowd.
Everyone rushed to shake their hands and the old women cackled with witch-like laughter.
“Nobody’s frightened of them tonight. They’re happy ever after!” The Sleeping Beauty’s drowsy voice was like a lullaby. She stretched her arms about the children and the three stood watching the thronging figures. The lawns bent under the tripping feet and the air was dizzy with nodding heads as Kings and Princesses, Heroes and Witches saluted each other in the Crack between the years.
“Gangway! Gangway! Let me pass!” cried a high, clear voice.
And far away at the end of the lawn they saw the Golden Pig. He plunged through the crowd on his stiff hind legs, dividing it to left and right with a wave of his golden trotter.
“Make way! Make way!” he shouted importantly. And the crowd parted and drew aside so that it formed a double row of bowing, curtseying creatures.
For now there appeared, at the heels of the Pig, a figure that was curiously familiar. A hat with a bow was upon its head and its coat shone brightly with silver buttons. Its eyes were as blue as Willow-Pattern and its nose turned up in an airy way like the nose of a Dutch Doll.
Lightly she tripped along the path, with the Golden Pig prancing neatly before her. And as she came a cry of greeting rose up from every throat. Hats and caps and crowns and coronets were tossed into the air. And the moon itself seemed to shine more brightly as she walked beneath its rays.
“But why is she here?” demanded Jane, as she watched that shape coming down the clearing. “Mary Poppins is not a fairy-tale.”
“She’s even better!” said Alfred loyally. “She’s a fairy-tale come true. Besides,” he rumbled, “she’s the Guest of the Evening! It was she who left the books open.”
Amid the happy shouts of welcome, Mary Poppins bowed to right and left. Then she marched to the centre of the lawn and, opening her black handbag, she took out a concertina.
“Choose your partners!” cried the Golden Pig, as he drew a flute from a pocket in his skin and put it to his mouth.
At that command, every creature there turned swiftly to his neighbour. Then the flute broke into a swinging tune; the concertina and the Four-and-Twenty Blackbirds took up the gay refrain; and a white Cat played the chorus sweetly on a hey-diddle Fiddle.
“Can it be my cat?” Michael wondered, as he looked for the pattern of flowers and leaves. He had no time to decide, however, for his attention was attracted by Alfred.