The King's eyes popped with angry astonishment. Nobody had ever dared to interrupt him before.
"The sky," he bellowed, "is—er—it's——. Well, of course I can't tell you in so many yards. Neither could anyone else, I assure you. It is probably——"
"I want an exact reply," said the Cat. He glanced from the King to the gaping courtiers. "Has anyone here, in this hall of learning, the answer to my question?"
Nervously glancing at the King, the Prime Minister raised a trembling hand.
"I have always supposed," he murmured shyly, "that the sky was just a little higher than the Eagle flies. I'm an old man, of course, and I'm probably wrong——"
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 m
e 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 something for nothing, I demand in return two small requests——"
"Oh, anything. Anything at all," said the King with a lordly gesture.
"I should like, every now and then," said the Cat, "to come to the Palace and see——"
"Me? Why, of course! You're always welcome!" The King broke in with a satisfied smile.
"To see the Queen," the Cat continued, ignoring the King's remark.
"Oh—the Queen! All right. Whenever you like. You can help us to keep down the mice."
"My second request," the Cat went on, "is the little chain of blue-and-green flowers that the Queen wears round her neck."
"Take it—and welcome!" the King said airily. "It was only a cheap one, anyway."
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, he turned away and, without a glance at anyone else, sailed out of the Council Chamber. The blue-and-green necklace shone in his fur and his 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. Good-bye!" 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.
"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 he went down the garden path, his whiskers twitching in the morning air, his blue-and-green necklace shining in the sun and his white tail waving like a banner behind him.
And as he disappeared through the Palace gates, all those who had seen him felt rich and happy.
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 cocoanut palm.
As for the Cat, he went his way through the ways of the world, decked in the Queen's bright necklace; and gazing at everything he saw with his green and piercing eyes.
He is still wandering, some folks say, for Near and Far are alike to him. And always as he goes, he watches out for one or another who will return his gaze. A king, it may be, or perhaps a shepherd, or a man going by through the city streets. If he comes upon anyone like that, he 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 his 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 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 he comes back," Jane murmured slowly, "I shall look right into his 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 he 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, he will—won't he, 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 hud
dled 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 overworking. I'm seeing things."
"What things?" demanded Mrs. Banks.
Mr. Banks took a sip of water.
"I was turning in at the end of the Lane when——" he gave a shudder and closed his eyes. "I saw it standing right by our gate."
"You saw what standing?" cried Mrs. Banks frantically.
"A white thing. Sort of leopard it was. And forget-me-nots growing all over its fur. When I got to the gate it—looked at me. A wild green look—right into my eyes. Then it nodded and said 'Good-evening, Banks!' and hurried up the path."
"But—" Mrs. Banks began to argue.
Mr. Banks raised a protesting hand.
"I know what you're going to say. Well, don't. The leopards are all locked up in the Zoo. And they don't have forget-me-nots on them, anyway. I'm perfectly well aware of that. But it just goes to show that I'm very ill. You'd better send for Dr. Simpson."
Mrs. Banks ran to the telephone. And a stifled hiccup came from the landing.
"What's the matter with you up there?" asked Mr. Banks faintly.
But Jane and Michael could not answer. They were overcome by a storm of giggles. They writhed and rolled and rocked on the floor and gulped and gurgled with laughter.
For while Mr. Banks was describing his shock, a white shape had appeared at the Nursery window. Lightly it leapt from the sill to the floor and up to its place on the mantelpiece. It sat there now with its tail curled round it and its whiskers folded against its cheeks. Dappled with small, blue, shining flowers, its green eyes gazing across the room, silent and still on the mantelpiece, sat Michael's China Cat.
"Well, of all the hard-hearted, unfeeling children!" Mr. Banks stared up at them, shocked and hurt.
But that only made them laugh more loudly. They giggled and coughed and choked and exploded till Mary Poppins bent back her head and fixed them with one of her fiercest glares.