And, indeed, it was one and the same. The same black-and-yellow coat shone in the sunny mist, more like dapples of light and shadow than ordinary fur. And about its neck was the same gold collar.
The cat glanced up invitingly, smiling the same mysterious smile, and padded lightly on.
Michael darted after it, in and out of the patches of mist that seemed to grow thicker as he ran.
Something fell with a chink at his feet.
“My shilling!” he cried, as he bent to retrieve it. He searched among the steaming grasses, turning over the wet blades, feeling under the clover. Not here! Not there! Where could it have gone?
“Come on!” said a soft, inviting voice. He looked round quickly. To his surprise there was nobody near – except the smiling cat.
“Hurry!” cried the voice again.
It was the cat who had spoken.
Michael sprang up. It was no use hunting, the shilling had gone. He hurried after the voice.
The cat smiled as he caught it up and rubbed against his legs. The steaming vapour rose up from the earth, wrapping them both around. And before them stood a wall of mist almost as thick as a cloud.
“Take hold of my collar,” the cat advised. Its voice was no more than a soft mew, but it held a note of command.
Michael felt a twinge of excitement. Something new was happening! He bent down obediently and clasped the band of gold.
“Now, jump!” the cat ordered. “Lift your feet!”
And holding the golden collar tightly, Michael sprang into the mist.
“Whee – ee – ee!” cried a rushing wind in his ears. The sunny cloud was sweeping past him and all around him was empty space. The only solid things in the world were the shining band round the cat’s neck and the hat on his own head.
“Where on earth are we going?” Michael gasped.
At the same moment the mist cleared. His feet touched something firm and shiny. And he saw that he stood on the steps of a palace – a palace made of gold.
“Nowhere on earth,” replied the cat, pressing a bell with its paw.
The doors of the palace opened slowly. Sweet music came to Michael’s ears and the sight he beheld quite dazzled him.
Before him lay a great gold hall, blazing with plumes of light. Never, in his richest dreams, had Michael imagined such splendour. But the grandeur of the palace was as nothing compared to the brilliance of its inhabitants. For the hall was full of cats.
These cats were playing fiddles, cats playing flutes, cats on trapezes, cats in hammocks; cats juggling with golden hoops, cats dancing on the tips of their toes; cats turning somersaults; cats chasing tails and cats merely lolling about daintily licking their paws.
Moreover, they were tortoiseshell cats, all of them dappled with yellow and black; and the light in the hall seemed to come from their coats, for each cat shone with its own brightness.
In the centre, before a golden curtain, lay a pair of golden cushions. And on these reclined two dazzling creatures, each wearing a crown of gold. They leant together, paw in paw, majestically surveying the scene.
“They must be the King and Queen,” thought Michael.
To one side of this lordly pair stood three very young cats. Their fur was as smooth and bright as sunlight, and each had a chaplet of yellow flowers perched between the ears. Round about them were other cats who looked like courtiers – for all were wearing golden collars and ceremoniously standing on their hind legs.
One of these turned and beckoned to Michael.
“Here he is, Your Majesty!” He bowed obsequiously.
“Ah,” said the King, with a stately nod. “So glad you’ve turned up at last! The Queen and I and our three daughters –” he waved his paw at the three young cats – “have been expecting you!”
Expecting him! How flattering! But, of course, no more than his due.
“May we offer you a little refreshment?” asked the Queen, with a gracious smile.
“Yes, please!” said Michael eagerly. In such a graceful environment there would surely be nothing less than jelly – and probably ice cream!
Immediately three courtier cats presented three golden platters. On one lay a dead mouse, on the second a bat, and the third held a small raw fish.
Michael felt his face fall. “Oh, no! thank you!” he said, with a shudder.
“First Yes Please and then No Thank You! Which do you mean?” the King demanded.
“Well, I don’t like mice!” protested Michael. “And I never eat bats or raw fish either.”
“Don’t like mice?” cried a hundred voices, as the cats all stared at each other.
“Fancy!” exclaimed the three Princesses.
“Then perhaps you would care for a little milk?” said the Queen, with a queenly smile.
At once a courtier stood before him with milk in a golden saucer.
Michael put out his hands to take it.
“Oh, not with your paws!” the Queen implored him. “Let him hold it while you lap!”
“But I can’t lap!” Michael protested. “I haven’t got that kind of tongue.”
“Can’t lap!” Again the cats regarded each other. They seemed quite scandalised.
“Fancy!” the three Princesses mewed.
“Well,” said the Queen hospitably, “a little rest after your journey!”
“Oh, it wasn’t much of a journey,” said Michael. “Just a big jump and here we were! It’s funny,” he went on thoughtfully, “I’ve never seen this palace before – and I’m always in the Park! It must have been hidden behind the trees.”
“In the Park?”
The King and Queen raised their eyebrows. So did all the courtiers. And the three Princesses were so overcome that they took three golden fans from their pockets and hid their smiles behind them.
“You’re not in the Park now, I assure you. Far from it!” the King informed him.
“Well, it can’t be very far,” said Michael. “It only took me a minute to get here.”
“Ah!” said the King. “But how long is a minute?”
“Sixty seconds!” Michael replied. Surely, he thought, a King should know that!
“Your minutes may be sixty seconds, but ours are about two hundred years.”
Michael smiled at him amiably. A King, he thought, must have his joke.
“Now tell me,” continued the King blandly, “did you ever hear of the Dog Star?”
“Yes,” said Michael, very surprised. What had the Dog Star to do with it? “His other name is Sirius.”
“Well, this,” said the King, “is the Cat Star. And its other name is a secret. A secret, may I further add, that is only known to cats.”
“But how did I get here?” Michael enquired. He was feeling more and more pleased with himself. Think of it – visiting a star! That didn’t happen to everyone.
“You wished,” replied the King calmly.
“Did I?” He couldn’t remember it.
“Of course you did!” the King retorted.
“Last night!” the Queen reminded him.
“Looking at the first star!” the courtiers added firmly.
“Which happened,” said the King, “to be ours. Read the Report, Lord Chamberlain!”
An elderly cat, in spectacles and a long gold wig, stepped forward with an enormous book.