off his peaked cap. And slowly Mary Poppins, too, stood up.
“My dear child. My very dear child!” said a small, delicate, hissing voice. And out from the largest of the cages there came, with slow, soft, winding movements, a Hamadryad. He slid in graceful curves past the bowing snakes and the Brown Bear, towards Mary Poppins. And when he reached her, he raised the front half of his long golden body, and, thrusting upwards his scaly golden hood, daintily kissed her, first on one cheek and then on the other.
“So!” he hissed softly. “This is very pleasant – very pleasant, indeed. It is long since your Birthday fell on a Full Moon, my dear.” He turned his head.
“Be seated, friends!” he said, bowing graciously to the other snakes, who, at that word, slid reverently to the floor again, coiled themselves up, and gazed steadily at the Hamadryad and Mary Poppins.
The Hamadryad turned them to Jane and Michael, and with a little shiver they saw that his face was smaller and more wizened than anything they had ever seen. They took a step forward, for his curious deep eyes seemed to draw them towards him. Long and narrow they were, with a dark sleepy look in them, and in the middle of that dark sleepiness a wakeful light like a jewel.
“And who, may I ask, are these?” he said in his soft, terrifying voice, looking at the children enquiringly.
“Miss Jane Banks and Master Michael Banks, at your service,” said the Brown Bear gruffly, as though he were half afraid. “Her friends.”
“Ah, her friends. Then they are welcome. My dears, pray be seated.”
Jane and Michael, feeling somehow that they were in the presence of a King – as they had not felt when they met the Lion – with difficulty drew their eyes from that compelling gaze and looked round for something to sit on. The Brown Bear provided this by squatting down himself and offering them each a furry knee.
Jane said, in a whisper: “He talks as though he were a great lord.”
“He is. He’s the lord of our world – the wisest and most terrible of us all,” said the Brown Bear softly and reverently.
The Hamadryad smiled, a long, slow, secret smile, and turned to Mary Poppins.
“Cousin,” he began gently hissing.
“Is she really his cousin?” whispered Michael.
“First cousin once removed – on the mother’s side,” returned the Brown Bear, whispering the information behind his paw. “But, listen now. He’s going to give the Birthday Present.”
“Cousin,” repeated the Hamadryad, “it is long since your Birthday fell on the Full Moon and long since we have been able to celebrate the event as we celebrate it tonight. I have, therefore, had time to give the question of your Birthday Present some consideration. And I have decided” – he paused, and there was no sound in the Snake House but the sound of many creatures all holding their breath – “that I cannot do better than give you one of my own skins.”
“Indeed, cousin, it is too kind of you—” began Mary Poppins, but the Hamadryad held up his hood for silence.
“Not at all. Not at all. You know that I change my skin from time to time and that one more or less means little to me. Am I not—?” he paused and looked round him.
“The Lord of the Jungle,” hissed all the snakes in unison, as though the question and the answer were part of a well-known ceremony.
The Hamadryad nodded. “So,” he said, “what seems good to me will seem so to you. It is a small enough gift, dear Mary, but it may serve for a belt or a pair of shoes, even a hatband – these things always come in useful, you know.”
And with that he began to sway gently from side to side, and it seemed to Jane and Michael as they watched that little waves were running up his body from the tail to the head. Suddenly he gave a long, twisting, corkscrew leap and his golden outer skin lay on the floor, and in its place he was wearing a new coat of shining silver.
“Wait!” said the Hamadryad, as Mary Poppins bent to pick up the skin. “I will write a Greeting upon it.” And he ran his tail very quickly along his thrown skin, deftly bent the golden sheath into a circle, and diving his head through this as though it were a crown, offered it graciously to Mary Poppins. She took it, bowing.
“I just can’t thank you enough—” she began, and paused. She was evidently very pleased, for she kept running the skin backwards and forwards through her fingers and looking at it admiringly.
“Don’t try,” said the Hamadryad. “Hsst!” he went on, and spread out his hood as though he were listening with it. “Do I not hear the signal for the Grand Chain?”
Everybody listened. A bell was ringing and a deep gruff voice could be heard coming nearer and nearer, crying out:
“Grand Chain, Grand Chain! Everybody to the centre for the Grand Chain and Finale. Come along, come along. Stand ready for the Grand Chain!”
“I thought so,” said the Hamadryad, smiling. “You must be off, my dear. They’ll be waiting for you to take your place in the centre. Farewell, till your next Birthday.” And he raised himself as he had done before and lightly saluted Mary Poppins on both cheeks.
“Hurry away!” said the Hamadryad. “I will take care of your young friends.”
Jane and Michael felt the Brown Bear moving under them as they stood up. Past their feet they could feel all the snakes slipping and writhing as they hurried from the Snake House. Mary Poppins bowed towards the Hamadryad very ceremoniously, and without a backward glance at the children went running towards the huge green square in the centre of the Zoo.
“You may leave us,” said the Hamadryad to the Brown Bear who, after bowing humbly, ran off with his cap in his hand to where all the other animals were congregating round Mary Poppins.
“Will you go with me?” said the Hamadryad kindly to Jane and Michael. And without waiting for them to reply he slid between them, and with a movement of his hood directed them to walk one on either side of him.
“It has begun,” he said, hissing with pleasure.
And from the loud cries that were now coming from the Green, the children could guess that he meant the Grand Chain. As they drew nearer they could hear the animals singing and shouting, and presently they saw leopards and lions, beavers camels, bears, cranes, antelopes and many others all forming themselves into a ring round Mary Poppins. Then the animals began to move, wildly crying their Jungle songs, prancing in and out of the ring, and exchanging hand and wing as they went as dancers do in the Grand Chain of the Lancers.
A little piping voice rose high above the rest:
“Oh, Mary, Mary,
She’s my Dearie,
She’s my Dear-i-o!”
And they saw the Penguin come dancing by, waving his short wings and singing lustily. He caught sight of them, bowed to the Hamadryad, and called out:
“I got it – did you hear me singing it? It’s not perfect, of course. ‘Dearie’ does not rhyme exactly with Mary. But it’ll
