The brand-new handle gleamed in its place and John and Barbara clapped their hands.
“Don’t think you’re going to get it free!” Mrs Mo shook the rolling-pin. “From now on, everything’s got to be paid for. Nothing for nothing – that’s my motto!”
“Oh, I’ll certainly pay him,” said Mary Poppins, with her best society simper. “Everyone gets what he deserves – that’s my motto, Matilda!”
“Well, the quicker the better, please, Miss Poppins. I’ve no intention of waiting!”
“You won’t have to wait, I promise you!” Mary Poppins gave a twirl to her handbag and Jane and Michael watched with interest as she glanced round the little Park. They had never seen her behave like this – such elegant tact, such polished manners.
“What a charming little place you have!” She waved the parrot-headed umbrella towards the summer-house.
Mrs Mo gave a snort of disgust.
“Charming, you call it? I call it a hovel. If Samuel thinks I can live in that, he’ll have to change his mind. He’s not going to knock me down with a feather!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Matilda! I don’t possess such a thing.”
“A castle is what I want, Samuel. You owe it to your handsome bride!”
“Handsome is as handsome does!” said Mr Mo in a whisper.
But Mary Poppins’ smile grew brighter.
“Handsome indeed,” she agreed admiringly. “And you’re wearing such a lovely wreath!”
“Pooh,” Mrs Mo remarked, with contempt. “Two or three flowers twisted together. A crown of gold would be more to my liking – and I’ll have it too, before I’m finished!”
“Kind hearts are more than coronets,” said Mr Mo meekly.
“Not to me!” snapped Mrs Mo. “I’ll have a beaded band of gold! You mark my words, Miss Mary Poppins, I’ll be Queen of the Forest yet!”
“I do not doubt it,” said Mary Poppins. And her manner was so correct and respectful that Mrs Mo smiled a mollified smile and displayed her two front teeth.
“Well,” she said grudgingly, “now that you’re here, you’d better stay and be useful. You may pass round the food at the wedding-feast. And then you can wash up the dishes.”
The children clapped their hands to their lips and glanced at Mary Poppins. What would she say to that? they wondered.
Mr Mo gave a gasp of horror. “But, Matilda – don’t you realise? Don’t you know who she is?”
“That will do, Sam,” said Mary Poppins. She waved him aside with her parrot umbrella. Her blue eyes had grown a shade more blue, but, to Jane’s and Michael’s astonishment, her smile was broader than ever.
“So pleased to be of use, Matilda. And where do you plan to build your castle?”
“Well, I thought –” Mrs Mo fell back a step and swung the rolling-pin – “we’d have the entrance gates here. And here –” she took another large stride backwards – “the main door and the marble stairs.”
“But we can’t dwell in marble halls, Matilda! They’re far too grand for us.”
“For you, perhaps, Samuel. Nothing can be too grand for me. And then –” Mrs Mo fell back again – “a large and lofty reception room where I shall receive my guests.”
“Splendid!” said Mary Poppins brightly, pushing the perambulator before her, as she followed step by step.
And behind her marched Mr Mo and the children, followed by Eenie, Meenie and Mynie, and Mrs Hickory and her babies – all of them gazing, as if in a trance, at the two figures before them.
“The ballroom here!” shouted Mrs Mo, sweeping the rolling-pin about her.
“Ballroom!” Mr Mo groaned. “But who is going to use it?”
“I am,” said Mrs Mo, smirking. “And you’ll please let me do the talking, Samuel!”
“Silence is golden, Matilda, remember!” Mr Mo warned her.
“Oh, pray go on!” urged Mary Poppins, advancing another foot.
“Drawing-room! Dining-room! Pantry! Kitchen!”
Chamber by chamber the castle grew, invisible but imposing. With every word Mrs Mo fell backwards. With every word Mary Poppins stepped forward. And the rest of the party followed. They were almost across the Park now – for Mrs Mo’s rooms were large and airy – and nearing the edge of the woodland.
“My bedroom will be here!” she declared, swinging her arms in a wide circle. “And next to it –” the rolling-pin wheeled again through the air –”I shall have a spacious nursery.”
“That will be nice for the boys, Matilda!” Mr Mo brightened at the thought.
Mrs Mo gave him a scornful glance.
“Eenie, Meenie and Mynie,” she said, “can fend for themselves in the attic. The Nursery will be for my own children. And – if she brings me a reference, saying she is honest and reliable – Mary Poppins may come and look after them!”
“But she’s looking after us!” cried Michael. He seized a fold of the sprigged skirt and pulled her to his side.
“It’s kind of you, I’m sure, Matilda. But I never give references.”
Mary Poppins’ eyes had a curious glint as she thrust the perambulator forward.
“Then you’re no use to me!” declared Mrs Mo, strutting backwards through her invisible mansion.
“Oh, indeed?” Mary Poppins’ balmy tones had now an icy edge.
“Yes, indeed!” retorted Mrs Mo. “I won’t have people in my castle who are likely to steal the silver! And don’t look at me like that!” she added. There was now a note of alarm in her voice, as though there was something frightening in the smiling face that pursued her.
“Like what?” said Mary Poppins softly. And she gave the perambulator another push.
Mrs Mo retreated again and raised her rolling-pin.
“Away with you! Be off!” she cried. “You’re an uninvited guest!” Her face was the colour of her apron and her large body trembled.
“Oh, no, I’m not!” said Mary Poppins, moving forward, like an oncoming storm. “You told me to stay and wash the dishes!”
“Well – I take it back!” quavered Mrs Mo. “You pay us what you owe and be gone. I won’t have you in my Park!” The rolling-pin shivered in her hand as she stumbled back into the forest shade.
“Your Park, did you say?” murmured Mary Poppins, advancing with ever quicker steps.
“Yes, mine! Oh, Samuel, do something – can’t you? I won’t have her smiling at me like that! Ow! Let me go! Oh, what has caught me! I’m stuck, I can’t get free! What is it?”
As she spoke, an arm went round her waist and strong hands gripped her by the wrist.
Behind her stood a stalwart figure smiling triumphantly. A head-dress of feathers was on his brow, a bow and some arrows hung from one shoulder and the other was draped with a striped blanket.
“At last! At last I find my squaw!” He grasped his wriggling captive closer.
“Let me go, you savage!” shrieked Mrs Mo, as she turned and beheld his face.
“Let go? Not I! What I find I keep. You shall come with me to my wigwam.”