Mary Poppins in the Park

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.'

'I won't! Unhand me! Samuel! Tell him to set me free!'

'Oh, I wouldn't dare — he's far too strong. And the best of friends must part, Matilda!'

'Free? Nay, nay, you shall be my slave. There!' said the Indian cheerfully, as he strung some yellow beads round her head and stuck a feather in the knob of her hair. 'This I give as a great honour. Nowyou're Indian, too!'

'I'm not! I won't! Oh, help! Oh, Sam!'

'Well, you wanted a crown of beaded gold and you seem to have got it, my dear!'

'Wash in the stream, cook over twigs!' The Indian wrinkled his nose at her. 'All the wide greenwood for your house and sky above for your roof!'

'That's larger than the largest castle.' Mr. Mo gave her a beaming glance.

'Nay, struggle not,' said the Indian, as Mrs. Mo tried to wriggle away. 'A good squaw obeys her master. And a queen must do the same!'

'Let me go, you savage!

'Queen?' cried Mrs. Mo, wildly kicking.

The Indian tossed his head proudly. 'Did you not know I was King of the Forest?'

'Matilda, how splendid! Just what you wanted!'

'I didn't, I didn't! Not in this way!'

'There are more ways than one of being a queen,' said Mary Poppins primly.

Mrs. Mo turned on her in a fury. She drummed with her feet on the Indian's shins and brandished the rolling- pin.

'This is your doing — you wolf in sheep's clothing! Things were going so nicely until you came. Oh, Samuel, why did you let her in?' Mrs. Mo burst into angry tears.

'Nicely for you!' said Mary Poppins. 'But not for anyone else!'

'A wolf? A lamb, you mean, Matilda! I didn't let her in — she came. As if I could keep that wolf from the door!' Mr. Mo laughed at his little joke.

'Oh, help me, Samuel! Set me free and I'll lend you the threepenny-piece. And the boys can have a slice of pie every second Friday!' Mrs. Mo, with an imploring gesture, flung out her knobbly arms.

'What?' she cried, glaring at each in turn. 'Does nobody want me back?'

There was silence in the little group. Mr. Mo glanced at his three sons and then at Mary Poppins. One by one all shook their heads.

'Coo-roo! Coo-roo!

They don't want you!'

cooed the doves as they fluttered past.

'Oh, what shall I do?' wailed Mrs. Mo.

'I want you, Mahtildah!' the Indian cried. 'I need you, Mahtildah, to boil the pot! Sweep the wigwam! Sew the moccasins! Make the arrows! Fill the pipe! And — on every second Monday, Mahtildah,

'You shall sit on the blanket beneath a moonbeam And feed on wild strawberries, snakes and nut cream!'

'Snakes? Moonbeams? Let me go! I eat nothing but mutton chops. Oh, help! Murder! Ambulance! Fire!'

Her voice rose to an anguished scream as the Indian flung her over his shoulder and stepped back into the woodland. Clasping his struggling burden tightly, he glanced at the three little boys.

'They let me go when I hollered,' he said. 'So — one good turn deserves another!'

And, smiling broadly at Mr. Mo, he bore the protesting Mrs. Mo into the depths of the forest.

'Police! Police!' they heard her shriek, as she and the Indian and the rolling-pin disappeared from view.

Mr. Mo gave a sigh of relief.

'Well, it certainly is an ill wind that blows nobody any good! I hope Matilda will settle down and enjoy being a queen. Mary, you've paid me well for that handle. I shall always be in your debt.'

'She said she would do it in her own good time — and she has,' said Michael proudly.

'Ah!' said Mr. Mo, shaking his head. 'She does everything in her own time — it's a very special kind.'

'You owe me nothing, Cousin Sam!' Mary Poppins turned away from the forest with a conquering shine in her