Slowly the Queen put up her hands and unfastened the clasp at her throat. She twined the necklace about the Cat, looping it round the furry body and over and under the tail. Then for a long moment she looked deep into the Cat’s green eyes and the Cat looked into hers. And in that look lay all the secrets that Queens and cats carry in their hearts and never tell to anyone.
“My At Home days are every Second Friday,” said the Queen, as she smiled at the Cat.
“I shall come,” the Cat said, nodding.
And having said that, it turned away and, without a glance at anyone else, sailed out of the Council Chamber. The blue-and-green necklace shone in its fur and its tail waved to and fro like a banner.
“By the way!” called the King, as the Cat departed. “Are you sure you’re really a prince in disguise? Could I have safely cut off your head?”
The Cat turned about and regarded him gravely. Then it smiled its mocking smile.
“Nothing is certain in this world. Goodbye!” said the green-eyed Cat.
It sprang across the sunny threshold and down the Castle steps.
On the Palace lawn a red cow was admiring her reflection in an ornamental pond.
“Who are you?” she enquired, as the Cat passed by.
“I’m the Cat that Looked at a King,” he replied.
“And I,” she remarked with a toss of her head, “am the Cow that Jumped Over the Moon.”
“Is that so?” said the Cat. “Whatever for?”
The Cow stared. She had never before been asked that question. And suddenly it occurred to her that there might be something else to do than jumping over moons. For the first time, the whole thing appeared as a piece of foolishness.
“Now that you mention it,” she said shyly, “I don’t think I really know.” And she trotted away across the lawn to think the matter over.
On the garden path a large, grey bird was noisily flapping its wings.
“I’m the Goose that Lays the Golden Eggs!” it quacked haughtily.
“Indeed?” said the Cat, “and where are your goslings?”
“Goslings?”The Goose turned a trifle pale. “Well, now that you mention it, I have none. I always felt there was something missing.” And she hurried off to make a nest and lay a common egg.
Plop! A green shape dropped in front of the Cat.
“I’m the Frog that Would a-Wooing Go,” it said proudly.
“Do you tell me that, now?” the Cat said gravely. “Well, I trust you are happily married.”
“Er – now that you mention it – not exactly. In fact, – er – no!” confessed the Frog.
“Ah,” said the Cat, with a shake of his head. “You should have obeyed your Mother!”
And before the Frog could do more than blink, the Cat had passed on. Away it went down the garden path, its whiskers twitching in the morning air, its blue-and-green necklace shining in the sun and its white tail waving like a banner behind it.
And as it disappeared through the Palace gates, all those who had seen it felt rich and happy. It had looked at them with its bright green eyes and their lives had taken a new direction.
The Cow and the Goose and the Frog were happy, for now they could stop doing foolish things that had no rhyme or reason. The courtiers all were happy men, dancing by day to the Fiddlers’ tunes and drinking at night from the flowing bowl. The King himself was extremely happy because he no longer thought about anything. And the Queen was happy for a very good reason – because the King was happy. The little Page was happy too. For now he could fill the inkwells with ink, and empty them back in the bottle again with no one to say him nay. But the happiest person in all the world was the old Prime Minister.
Do you know what he did?
He issued a proclamation.
The King commanded his subjects (it said) to put up Maypoles and dance around them; to get out Merry-go-rounds and ride them; to dance and feast and sing and grow fat and love one another dearly. And, furthermore (it was clearly printed), if anyone disobeyed these laws, the King would immediately cut off his head.
And, having done that, the Prime Minister felt he had done enough. He spent the rest of his days doing nothing – just sitting in the sun in a rocking-chair, making himself a gentle breeze with a fan of coconut palm.
As for the Cat, it went its way through the ways of the world, decked in the Queen’s bright necklace; and gazing at everything it saw with its green and piercing eyes.
It is still wandering, some folks say, for Near and Far are alike to it. And always as it goes, it watches out for one or another who will return its gaze. A king, it may be, or perhaps a shepherd, or a man going by through the city streets. If it comes upon anyone like that, it will stay with them for a little while. Not very long, but long enough. It takes no more than the tick of a second to look down deep in its deep green eyes and discover who they are. . .
The dreamy voice was hushed and silent. The sunlight crept away from the window and dusk came slowly in. Not a sound could be heard in the Nursery but the ticking of the clock.
Then, with a start, as though she were coming back from a great distance, Mary Poppins turned to the children. Her eyes snapped angrily.
“May I ask what you’re doing out of bed? I thought you were dying of toothache, Michael! What are you gaping at me for, Jane? I am not a Performing Bear!”
And, snatching up her wool, she became her usual whirlwind self.
With a squeak, Michael ran across the room and hurled himself into bed. But Jane did not move.
“I wonder who I am!” she said softly, half to herself and half to Michael.
“I know who I am,” said Michael stoutly. “I’m Michael George Banks, of Cherry Tree Lane. And I don’t need a Cat to tell me.”
“He doesn’t need anyone to tell him anything. Clever Mr Smarty!” Mary Poppins tossed him a scornful smile.
“When it comes back,” Jane murmured slowly, “I shall look right into its deep green eyes!”
“You and your deep green eyes, indeed! Better look into your own black face and see that it’s clean for Supper!” Mary Poppins sniffed her usual sniff.
“Perhaps it won’t come back!” said Michael. A Cat that could look at a King, he thought, would hardly want to spend its days on the top of a mantelpiece.
“Oh, yes, it will – won’t it, Mary Poppins?” Jane’s voice was full of anxiety.
“How should I know?” snapped Mary Poppins. “I’m not a Public Library!”
“But it’s Michael’s cat—” Jane began to argue, when Mrs Banks’ voice interrupted her.
“Mary Poppins!” it called from the foot of the stairs. “Could you possibly spare me a moment?”
The children looked at each other questioningly. Their Mother’s voice was shrill with alarm. Mary Poppins hurried out of the room. Michael pushed the blankets away once more and crept with Jane to the top of the stairs.
Down in the front hall Mr Banks sat huddled upon a chair. Mrs Banks was anxiously stroking his head and giving him sips of water.
“He seems to have had some kind of shock,” she explained to Mary Poppins. “Can’t you tell us, George, exactly what happened? Whatever can be the matter?”
Mr Banks raised a ghostly face. “A Nervous Breakdown – that’s what’s the matter. I’m over-working. I’m seeing things.”