Mary Poppins - the Complete Collection. P.L. Travers
looked at it. She could see that it had been carefully oiled and combed into ringlets.
“Very,” she said. “But – isn’t it rather odd for a lion to care about such things? I thought—”
“What! My dear young lady, the Lion, as you know, is the King of the Beasts. He has to remember his position. And I, personally, am not likely to forget it. I believe a lion should always look his best no matter where he is. This way.”
And with a graceful wave of his forepaw he pointed towards the Big Cat House and ushered them in at the entrance.
Jane and Michael caught their breaths at the sight that met their eyes. The great hall was thronged with animals. Some were leaning over the long bar that separated them from the cages, some were standing on the seats that rose in tiers opposite. There were panthers and leopards, wolves, tigers and antelopes; monkeys and hedgehogs, wombats, mountain goats and giraffes; and an enormous group composed entirely of kittiwakes and vultures.
“Splendid, isn’t it?” said the Lion proudly. “Just like the dear old jungle days. But come along – we must get good places.”
And he pushed his way through the crowd crying, “Gangway, gangway!” and dragging Jane and Michael after him. Presently, through a little clearing in the middle of the hall, they were able to get a glimpse of the cages.
“Why,” said Michael, opening his mouth very wide, “they’re full of human beings!”
And they were.
In one cage two large, middle-aged gentlemen in top hats and striped trousers were prowling up and down, anxiously gazing through the bars as though they were waiting for something.
Children of all shapes and sizes, from babies in long clothes upwards, were scrambling about in another cage. The animals outside regarded these with great interest and some of them tried to make the babies laugh by thrusting their paws or their tails in through the bars. A giraffe stretched his long neck out over the heads of the other animals and let a little boy in a sailor-suit tickle its nose.
In a third cage three elderly ladies in raincoats and galoshes were imprisoned. One of them was knitting, but the other two were standing near the bars shouting at the animals and poking at them with their umbrellas.
“Nasty brutes. Go away. I want my tea!” screamed one of them.
“Isn’t she funny?” said several of the animals, and they laughed loudly at her.
“Jane – look!” said Michael, pointing to the cage at the end of the row. “Isn’t that—”
“Admiral Boom!” said Jane, looking very surprised.
And Admiral Boom it was. He was ramping up and down in his cage, coughing, and blowing his nose, and spluttering with rage.
“Blast my gizzard! All hands to the Pump! Land, ho! Heave away there! Blast my gizzard!” shouted the Admiral. Every time he came near the bars a tiger prodded him gently with a stick and this made Admiral Boom swear dreadfully.
“But how did they all get in there?” Jane asked the Lion.
“Lost,” said the Lion. “Or rather, left behind. These are the people who’ve dawdled and been left inside when the gates were shut. Got to put ’em somewhere, so we keep ’em here. He’s dangerous – that one there! Nearly did for his keeper not long ago. Don’t go near him!” And he pointed at Admiral Boom.
“Stand back, please, stand back! Don’t crush! Make way, please!” Jane and Michael could hear several voices crying these words loudly.
“Ah – now they’re going to be fed!” said the Lion, excitedly pressing forward into the crowd. “Here come the keepers.”
Four Brown Bears, each wearing a peaked cap, were trundling trolleys of food along the little corridor that separated the animals from their cages.
“Stand back, there!” they said, whenever an animal got in the way. Then they opened a small door in each cage and thrust the food through on pronged forks.
Jane and Michael had a good view of what was happening, through a gap between a panther and a dingo. Bottles of milk were being thrown into the babies, who made soft little grabs with their hands and clutched them greedily. The older children snatched sponge cakes and doughnuts from the forks and began to eat ravenously. Plates of thin bread-and-butter and wholemeal scones were provided for the ladies in galoshes, and the gentlemen in top hats had lamb cutlets and custard in glasses. These, as they received their food, took it away into a corner, spread handkerchiefs over their striped trousers and began to eat.
Presently, as the keepers passed down the line of cages, a great commotion was heard.
“Blast my vitals – call that a meal? A skimpy little round of beef and a couple of cabbages! What – no Yorkshire pudding? Outrageous! Up with the anchor! And where’s my port? Port, I say! Heave her over! Below there, where’s the Admiral’s port?”
“Listen to him! He’s turned nasty. I tell you, he’s not safe – that one,” said the Lion.
Jane and Michael did not need to be told whom he meant. They knew Admiral Boom’s language too well.
“Well,” said the Lion, as the noise in the hall grew less uproarious. “That appears to be the end. And I’m afraid, if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting along. See you later at the Grand Chain, I hope. I’ll look out for you.” And, leading them to the door, he took his leave of them, sidling away, swinging his curled mane, his golden body dappled with moonlight and shadow.
“Oh, please—” Jane called after him. But he was out of hearing.
“I wanted to ask him if they’d ever get out. The poor humans! Why, it might have been John and Barbara – or any of us.” She turned to Michael, but found that he was no longer by her side. He had moved away along one of the paths and, running after him, she found him talking to a Penguin who was standing in the middle of the path with a large copybook under one wing and an enormous pencil under the other. He was biting the end of it thoughtfully as she approached.
“I can’t think,” she heard Michael saying, apparently in answer to a question.
The Penguin turned to Jane. “Perhaps you can tell me,” he said. “Now, what rhymes with Mary? I can’t use ‘contrary’ because that has been done before and one must be original. If you’re going to say ‘fairy’, don’t. I’ve thought of that already, but as it’s not a bit like her, it won’t do.”
“Hairy,” said Michael brightly.
“Him. Not poetic enough,” observed the Penguin.
“What about ‘wary’?” said Jane.
“Well—” The Penguin appeared to be considering it. “It’s not very good, is it?” he said forlornly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to give it up. You see, I was trying to write a poem for the Birthday. I thought it would be so nice if I began:
‘O Mary, Mary—’
and then I couldn’t get any further. It’s very annoying. They expect something learnt from a penguin, and I don’t want to disappoint them. Well, well – you mustn’t keep me. I must get on with it.” And with that he hurried away, biting his pencil and bending over his copybook.
“This is all very confusing,” said Jane. “Whose birthday is it, I wonder?”
“Now, come along, you two, come along. You want to pay your respects, I suppose, it being the Birthday and all!” said a voice behind them and, turning, they saw the Brown Bear who had given them their tickets at the gate.
“Oh, of course!” said Jane, thinking that was the safest thing to say, but not knowing in the least whom they were to pay their respects to.
The Brown Bear put an arm round