“Caught another cold?” she remarked sarcastically.
He wheeled round.
“Certainly not! It’s – ahem – the night air. Rather chilly, you know. Makes the eyes water. Well – I must be off!”
He waddled unsteadily to the edge of the sill. “I’m getting old,” he croaked sadly. “That’s what it is. Not so young as we were. Eh, Mary Poppins?”
“I don’t know about you–” Mary Poppins drew herself up haughtily – “but I’m quite as young as I was, thank you!”
“Ah,” said the Starling, shaking his head, “you’re a wonder. An Absolute, Marvellous, Wonderful Wonder!” His round eye twinkled wickedly.
“I don’t think!” he called back rudely, as he dived out of the window.
“Impudent Sparrer!” she shouted after him, and shut the window with a bang. . .
Chapter Six
ROBERTSON AY’S STORY
“STEP ALONG, PLEASE!” said Mary Poppins, pushing the perambulator, with the Twins at one end of it and Annabel at the other, towards her favourite seat in the Park.
It was a green one, quite near the Lake, and she chose it because she could bend sideways, every now and again, and see her own reflection in the water. The sight of her face, gleaming between two water-lilies always gave her a pleasant feeling of satisfaction and contentment.
Michael trudged behind.
“We’re always stepping along,” he grumbled to Jane in a whisper, taking care that Mary Poppins did not hear him, “but we never seem to get anywhere.”
Mary Poppins turned round and glared at him.
“Put your hat on straight!”
Michael tilted his hat over his eyes. It had H.M.S. Trumpeter printed on the band, and he thought it suited him very well.
But Mary Poppins was looking with contempt at them both.
“Humph!” she said. “You two look a picture, I must say! Stravaiging along like a couple of tortoises and no polish on your shoes.”
“Well, it’s Robertson Ay’s Half-day,” said Jane. “I suppose he didn’t have time to do them before he went out.”
“Tch, tch! Lazy, idle, Good-for-Nothing – that’s what he is. Always was and always will be!” Mary Poppins said savagely, pushing the perambulator up against her own green seat.
She lifted out the Twins, and tucked the shawl tightly around Annabel. She glanced at her sunlit reflection in the Lake and smiled in a superior way, straightening the new bow of ribbon at her neck. Then she took her bag of knitting from the perambulator.
“How do you know he’s always been idle?” asked Jane. “Did you know Robertson Ay before you came here?”
“Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies!” said Mary Poppins priggishly, as she began to cast on stitches for a woollen vest for John.
“She never tells us anything!” Michael grumbled.
“I know!” sighed Jane.
But very soon they forgot about Robertson Ay and began to play Mr-and-Mrs-Banks-and-Their-Two-Children. Then they became Red Indians with John and Barbara for squaws. And after that they changed into Tight-Rope-Walkers with the back of the green seat for a rope.
“Mind my hat – if ‘you please!” said Mary Poppins. It was a brown one with a pigeon’s feather stuck into the ribbon.
Michael went carefully, foot over foot, along the back of the seat. When he got to the end he took off his hat and waved it.
“Jane,” he cried, “I’m the King of the Castle and you’re the—”
“Stop, Michael!” she interrupted, and pointed across the Lake. “Look over there!”
Along the path at the edge of the Lake came a tall, slim figure, curiously dressed. He wore stockings of red striped with yellow, a red-and-yellow tunic scalloped at the edges, and on his head was a large-brimmed red-and-yellow hat with a high, peaked crown.
Jane and Michael watched with interest as he came towards them, moving with a lazy, swaggering step, his hands in his pockets and his hat pulled down over his eyes.
He was whistling loudly, and as he drew nearer they saw that the peaks of his tunic and the brim of his hat were edged with little bells that jingled musically as he moved. He was the strangest person they had ever seen, and yet – there was something about him that seemed familiar.
“I think I’ve seen him before,” said Jane, frowning and trying to remember.
“So have I. But I can’t think where.” Michael balanced on the back of the seat and stared.
Whistling and jingling, the curious figure slouched up to Mary Poppins and leant against the perambulator.
“’Day, Mary!” he said, putting a finger lazily to the brim of his hat. “And how are you keeping?”
Mary Poppins looked up from her knitting.
“None the better for your asking,” she said, with a loud sniff.
Jane and Michael could not see the man’s face for the brim of his hat was well pulled down, but from the way the bells jingled they knew he was laughing.
“Busy as usual, I see!” he remarked, glancing at the knitting. “But then, you always were, even at Court. If you weren’t dusting the Throne, you’d be making the King’s bed, and if you weren’t doing that you were polishing the Crown Jewels. I never knew such a one for work!”
“Well, it’s more than anyone could say for you!” said Mary Poppins crossly.
“Ah,” laughed the Stranger, “that’s just where you’re wrong! I’m always busy. Doing nothing takes a great deal of time! All the time, in fact!”
Mary Poppins pursed up her lips and made no reply.
The Stranger gave an amused chuckle. “Well, I must be getting along,” he said. “See you again some day!”
He brushed a finger along the bells of his hat and sauntered lazily away, whistling as he went.
Jane and Michael watched until he was out of sight.
“The Dirty Rascal!”
Mary Poppins’ voice rapped out behind them, and they turned to find that she, too, was staring after the Stranger.
“Who was that man, Mary Poppins?” asked Michael, bouncing excitedly up and down on the seat.
“I’ve just told you,” she snapped. “You said you were the King of the Castle – and you’re not, not by any means! But that’s the Dirty Rascal.”
“You mean the one in the Nursery Rhyme?” demanded Jane breathlessly.
“But Nursery Rhymes aren’t true, are they?” protested Michael. “And if they are, who is the King of the Castle?”
“Hush!” said Jane, laying her hand on his arm.
Mary Poppins had put down her knitting and was gazing out across the Lake with a far-away look in her eyes.
Jane and Michael sat very still, hoping, if they made no sound, she would tell them the whole story. The Twins huddled together at one end of the perambulator, solemnly staring at Mary Poppins. Annabel, at the other end, was sound asleep.
The King of the Castle (began Mary Poppins, folding her hands over her ball of wool and gazing right through the children as though they were not there), the King of the Castle lived in a country so far away that most people have never heard of it. Think as far as you can, and it’s even further than that; think as high as you can, and it’s higher than that; think as deep as you can, and it’s even deeper.