“Ups a daisy! ’Ere I go!” The Bird Woman seized the peppermint handle and wildly clutched her basket. Off swept the walking-stick over the pavement and up across the railings. A loud neighing filled the air and the children stared in amazement.
“Hold tightly!” Michael shouted anxiously.
“’Old tight yourself!” the Bird Woman answered, for his stick was already leaping beneath him.
“Hi, Jane! Mine’s doing it too!” he shrieked, as the stick bore him swiftly away.
“Be careful, Michael!” Jane called after him. But just at that moment her own stick wobbled and made a long plunge upwards. Away it swooped on the trail of Michael’s, with Jane astride its pink-and-white back. It bucked and reared like a horse beneath her and she kept her hand on its neck for a rein. Over the laurel hedge she rode and as she cleared the lilac bushes a crackling shape sped past her. It was Robertson Ay with his arms full of parcels. He was lying lengthways along his stick and dozing as he rode.
“I’ll race you to the oak tree, Jane!” cried Michael, as she trotted up.
“Quietly, please! No horseplay, Michael! Put your hats straight and follow me!”
Mary Poppins, on her parrot umbrella, rode past them at a canter. Neatly and primly, as though she were in a rocking-chair, she sat on the black silk folds. In her hand she held two leading strings attached to the Twins’ pink sticks.
“All of ’em made of the Finest Sugar!” Miss Calico’s voice came floating up as the earth fell away beneath them.
“She’s selling hundreds of sticks!” cried Michael. For the sky was quickly filling with riders. Invisible hooves seemed to pound the air and high-pitched neighs came from every direction.
“There goes Auntie Flossie – over the dahlias!” cried Jane, as she pointed downwards. Below them rode a middle-aged lady. Her feather boa streamed out on the wind and her hat was blowing sideways.
“So it is!” said Michael, staring with interest. “And there’s Miss Lark – with the dogs!”
Above the weeping-willow trees a neat little peppermint stick came trotting. On its back sat Miss Lark, looking rather nervous, and behind her rode the dogs. Willoughby, looking none the worse for the bicycle tyre, smiled rudely at the children. But Andrew kept his eyes tight shut, as heights always made him giddy.
Ka-lop! Ka-lop! Ka-lop! Ka-lop! came the sound of galloping hooves.
“Help! Help! Murder! Earthquakes!” cried a hoarse, distracted voice.
The children turned to see Mr Trimlet riding madly up behind them. His hands clung tightly to the Peppermint Candy and his face had turned quite white.
“I tried to eat my stick,” he wailed, “and look what it did to me!”
“Bargain Prices! Only one Pin! You get what you give!” came Miss Calico’s voice.
By this time the sky was like a race-course. The riders came from all directions; and it seemed to the children that everyone they knew had bought a peppermint horse. A man in a feathered hat rode by and they recognised him as one of the Aldermen. In the distance they caught a glimpse of the Match Man, as he trotted along on a bright pink stick. The Sweep raced past with his sooty brushes and the Ice Cream Man cantered up beside him, licking a Strawberry Bar.
“Out of the way! Make room! Make room!” cried a loud, important voice.
And dashing along at break-neck speed they saw the Lord Chancellor. He leant low over the neck of his stick as though he were riding a Derby Winner. His eye-glass was firmly stuck in his eye and his brief-case bounced up and down as he rode.
“Important Dispatches!” they heard him shout. “I must get to the Palace in time for Lunch! Make room! Make room!” And away he galloped and soon was out of sight.
What a commotion there was in the Park! Everyone jostled everyone else. “Get up!” and “Whoa there!” the riders yelled. And the walking-sticks snorted like angry horses.
“Keep to the Left! No overtaking!” the Park Keeper cried, as he cantered among them. His stick was like a Policeman’s horse; it pushed back the riders with its handle and headed the bucking steeds to the left.
“No Parking!” he bawled. “Pedestrians Crossing! Speed Limit Twenty Miles an Hour!”
“Feed the Birds! Tuppence a Bag!” The Bird Woman trotted among the crowd. She moved through a tossing surge of wings – pigeons and starlings, blackbirds and sparrows. “Feed the Birds! Tuppence a Bag!” she cried as she tossed her nuts in the air.
The Park Keeper pulled up his stick and shouted:
“Why, Mother, wot are you doin’ ’ere? You ought to be down at St Paul’s!”
“’Ullo, Fred, my boy! I’m feedin’ the Birds! See you at Tea-time! Tuppence a Bag!”
The Park Keeper stared as she rode away.
“I never saw ’er do that before, not even when I was a boy! ’Ere! Whoa, there! Look where you’re goin’!” he cried, as a bright pink walking-stick streaked by.
On it rode Ellen and the Policeman, who were off for their Afternoon Out.
“Oh! Oh!” shrieked Ellen. “I daren’t look down! It makes me feel quite giddy!”
“Well, don’t, then. Look at me instead!” said the Policeman, holding her round the waist as their stick galloped swiftly away.
On and on went the peppermint walking-sticks and their pinkness shone in the morning sun. Over the trees they bore their riders, over the houses, over the clouds.
Down below them Miss Calico’s voice grew fainter every moment.
“Peppermint Candy! Bargain Prices! All of them made of the Finest Sugar!”
And at last it seemed to Jane and Michael that the voice was no longer Miss Calico’s, but the faint shrill neigh of a little horse in a very distant meadow.
They threaded their way through the crowding riders, bouncing upon their peppermint sticks. The wind ran swiftly by their faces and the echo of hooves was in their ears. Oh, where were they riding? Home to dinner? Or out to the uttermost ends of the earth?
And ever before them, showing the way, making a path through the jostling riders, went the figure of Mary Poppins. She sat her umbrella with elegant ease, her hands well down on its parrot head. The pigeon’s wing in her hat flew at a perfect angle, not a fold of her dress was out of place. What she was thinking, they could not tell. But her mouth had a small self-satisfied smile as though she were thoroughly pleased with herself.
Cherry Tree Lane grew nearer and nearer. The Admiral’s telescope shone in the sun.
“Oh, I wish we need never go down!” cried Michael.
“I wish we could ride all day!” cried Jane.
“I wish to be home by One O’clock. Keep up with me, please!” said Mary Poppins. She pointed the beak of her parrot umbrella towards Number Seventeen.
They sighed, though they knew it was no good sighing. They patted the necks of their walking-sticks and followed her downwards through the sky.
The garden lawn, like a bright green paddock, rose slowly up to meet them. Down to it raced the peppermint sticks, rearing and prancing like polo ponies. Robertson Ay was the first to land. His stick pulled up in the pansy bed and Robertson opened his eyes and blinked. He yawned and gathered his parcels together and staggered into the house.
Down past the Cherry Trees trotted the children. Down, down, till the grasses grazed their feet, and the sticks stood still on the lawn.