Mary Poppins Opens the Door

The Cat clapped its sugar-white paws together.

'No! No! You are right,' it protested gently.

The King gave a sullen snort of rage.

'Tomfoolery! Nonsensical bosh!'

The Cat held up its paw for silence. 'Will you answer my second question, please! Where is the sweetest milk to be found?'

Immediately the King's face cleared, and took on a confident smirk.

'As simple as A.B.C.,' he said loftily. 'The answer, of course, is Sardinia. For there the cows live on honey and roses and their milk is as sweet as Golden Syrup. Or perhaps I should say the Elegant Islands, where they feed upon nothing but sugar cane. Or Greece, where they browse in the Candytuft. Now, taking into consideration —'

'I can take nothing into consideration,' said the Cat, 'except the fact that you have not answered my question. Where is the sweetest milk, O King?'

'I know!' cried the little Page, pausing for a moment above a half-filled inkwell. 'In a saucer by the fire.'

The Cat gave the child an approving nod and yawned in the face of the King.

'I thought you were so clever!' it said slyly. 'You may indeed be the wisest of Kings — but somebody else has answered my question. Do not frown, however—' for the King was glowering at the Page—'you still have one more chance to win. Here is my third question. What is the strongest thing in the world?'

The King's eyes glittered. This time he was certain he had the right answer.

'The Tiger,' he said thoughtfully, 'is a very strong thing. So also are the Horse and the Lion. Then, of course, there are the tides of the sea. And the granite veins of the mountains. Volcanoes, too, have a mighty strength and the snowy caps of ice at the Poles. Or, again, it might be the Wall of China—'

'Or again it might not!' the Cat broke in. 'Can anyone tell me the strongest thing?'

It glanced once more round the Council Chamber. And this time it was the Queen who spoke.

'I think,' she said gently, 'it must be Patience. For, in the long run, it is Patience that overcomes all things.'

The green eyes dwelt gravely upon her for a moment.

'It is indeed,' the Cat agreed quietly. And turning, it laid a paw on the crown.

'Oh, wisest of monarchs!' cried the Cat. 'You are, without doubt, a mighty scholar and I am a common-or- garden cat. But I have answered all three of your questions and you have not answered one of mine. The result of the contest is clear, I think. The crown belongs to me.'

The King gave a short contemptuous laugh.

'Don't be so silly! What would you do with it? You can't make laws and rule the people. You don't even know how to read or write. TYirn over my kingdom to a Cat? I'm hanged if I will!'

The Cat smiled broadly.

'I see that your wisdom does not include a knowledge of fairy-tales. If it did, you would know that it is only necessary to cut off a cat's head to discover a Prince in disguise.'

'Fairy-tales? Pooh! They're nothing to me. I'm thinking about my kingdom.'

'Your kingdom,' said the Cat, 'if you'll forgive me mentioning it, is no longer your affair. All that need concern you now is quickly to cut off my head. The rest you may leave to me. Furthermore, since you apparently have no use for them, I shall take into my service this wise man, your Prime Minister, this understanding woman, your wife, and this sensible child, your page. Let them get their hats and come with me and together we four shall rule the kingdom.'

'But what's going to happen to we?' cried the King. 'Where shall I go? How shall I live?'

The Cat's eyes narrowed sternly.

'You should have thought of that before. Most people think twice before making a bargain with a Cat. Well, out with your sword now, learned man! And I trust the blade is sharp.'

'Stop!' cried the Prime Minister, as he laid his hand on the hilt of the King's sword. Then he turned to the Cat and bowed respectfully.

'Sir,' he said quietly, 'listen to me! It is true that you have won the crown, in fair and equal contest. And it may be you are indeed a Prince. But I must decline your offer. I have served the King faithfully since the days when I was a page in his father's court. And whether he be crowned or uncrowned, head of a kingdom or a tramp on the lonely roads, I love him and he needs me. I will not go with you.'

'Nor I,' said the Queen, as she rose from her golden throne. 'I have stood at the King's side since he was young and comely. I have waited for him in silence through long, lonely years. Whether he be wise or foolish, rich or without bread, I love him and I need him. I will not go with you.'

'Nor I,' said the little Page, as he corked up his bottle of ink. 'This is the only home I have ever known. And the King is my king and I am sorry for him. Besides, I like filling up the inkwells. I will not go with you.'

At that the Cat smiled a curious smile and its green eyes shone on the three who had refused him.

'What have you to say to this, O King?' said the Cat as it turned to the desk.

But no words came to answer the question. For the King was weeping.

'O wise man, why do you weep?' asked the Cat.

'Because I am ashamed,' sobbed the King. 'I boasted about how clever I was. I thought I knew everything — pretty nearly. And now I find that an old man and a woman and a little lad are all far wiser than I am. Do not try to comfort me!' he wept, as the Queen and the Prime Minister touched his hands. 'I am not worth it. I know nothing at all. Not even who I am!'

He hid his face in the crook of his arm. 'Oh, I know that I'm a King!' he cried. 'I know my name and address, of course! But I do not know, after all these years, who I really, truly am!'

'Look at me and you will find out,' said the Cat quietly.

'But I h-h-have looked at you!' sobbed the King into his handkerchief.

'Not really,' the Cat insisted gently. 'You have only glanced at me, now and again. A Cat may look at a King you say. But a King may also look at a Cat. If you did that, you would know who you are. Look in my eyes — and see!'

The King took his face out of the handkerchief and peered at the Cat through his tears. His eyes wandered over the calm white face and came at last to the Cat's green eyes. Within that shining, piercing gaze he saw his own reflection.

'Closer. Closer,' the Cat commanded.

Obediently the King bent nearer.

And as he gazed at those fathomless eyes, a change came over the man within them. Slowly, his thin, pinched face grew fatter. The pale cheeks plumped into round red pouches and the wrinkles smoothed themselves out of his brow. Bright locks of brown curled upon his head; a brown beard sprang from his greying chin. The King gave a start of surprise and smiled. And a big broad rosy man smiled back from the mirroring eyes of the Cat.

'My Glorious Ghosts! That's me! he cried. 'I know who I really am at last! Why, I'm not the cleverest man in the world!' He flung up his head with a gusty laugh. 'Ho-ho! Ha-ha! I see it all now! I'm not a thinking person at all. I'm nothing but a Merry Old Soul!'

He waved his arms at the gaping courtiers. 'Here, you! Take away those pens and papers. Tear up the notebooks! Bury the desks! And if anyone mentions a fact to me I shall cut off his head myself!'

He gave another uproarious laugh and embraced the Prime Minister so tightly that he nearly killed the old man.

'Forgive me, my faithful friend!' he cried. 'And bring me my Pipe and a Bowl of Punch and call in my Fiddlers Three!'

'And you, my Joy, my Treasure, my Dove—' he turned to the Queen with outstretched arms. 'Oh, give me your hand again, dear heart, and I'll never let it go!'

Happy tears crept down the cheeks of the Queen, and the King touched them gently away. 'I don't need stars in the sky,' he whispered, 'I have them here, in your eyes.'

'Forgive me if I interrupt. But what about me?' exclaimed the Cat.

'Well, you've got the kingdom. You've got the crown! What more do you want?' the King demanded.

'Pooh!' said the Cat. 'They're no use to me! Accept them, I pray, as a friendly gift. But as no cat ever gives