to know very well – “I suppose you’ve all come for some Gingerbread?”
“That’s right, Mrs Corry,” said Mary Poppins politely.
“Good. Have Fannie and Annie given you any?” She looked at Jane and Michael as she said this.
Jane shook her head. Two hushed voices came from behind the counter.
“No, Mother,” said Miss Fannie meekly.
“We were just going to, Mother,” began Miss Annie in a frightened whisper.
At that Mrs Corry drew herself up to her full height and regarded her gigantic daughters furiously. Then she said in a soft, fierce, terrifying voice,
“Just going to? Oh, indeed! That is very interesting. And who, may I ask, Annie, gave you permission to give away my gingerbread?”
“Nobody, Mother. And I didn’t give it away. I only thought – ”
“You only thought! That is very kind of you. But I will thank you not to think. I can do all the thinking that is necessary here!” said Mrs Corry in her soft, terrible voice. Then she burst into a harsh cackle of laughter.
“Look at her! Just look at her! Cowardy-custard!* Cry-baby!” she shrieked, pointing her knotty finger at her daughter.
Jane and Michael turned and saw a large tear coursing down Miss Annie’s huge, sad face, but they did not like to say anything, for, in spite of her tininess, Mrs Corry made them feel rather small and frightened. But as soon as Mrs Corry looked the other way Jane seized the opportunity to offer Miss Annie her handkerchief. The huge tear completely drenched it, and Miss Annie, with a grateful look, wrung it out before she returned it to Jane.
“And you, Fannie – did you think, too, I wonder?” The high little voice was now directed at the other daughter.
“No, Mother,” said Miss Fannie trembling.
“Humph! Just as well for you! Open that case!”
With frightened, fumbling fingers, Miss Fannie opened the glass case.
“Now, my darlings,” said Mrs Corry in quite a different voice. She smiled and beckoned so sweetly to Jane and Michael, that they were ashamed of having been frightened of her, and felt that she must be very nice after all. “Won’t you come and take your pick, my lambs? It’s a special recipe today – one I got from Alfred the Great*. He was a very good cook, I remember, though he did once burn the cakes. How many?”
Jane and Michael looked at Mary Poppins.
“Four each,” she said. “That’s twelve. One dozen.”
“I’ll make it a Baker’s Dozen – take thirteen,” said Mrs Corry cheerfully.
So Jane and Michael chose thirteen slabs of gingerbread, each with its gilt paper star. Their arms were piled up with the delicious dark cakes. Michael could not resist nibbling a corner of one of them.
“Good?” squeaked Mrs Corry, and when he nodded she picked up her skirts and did a few steps of the Highland Fling for pure pleasure.
“Hooray, hooray, splendid, hooray!” she cried in her shrill little voice. Then she came to a standstill* and her face grew serious.
“But remember – I’m not giving them away. I must be paid. The price is threepence for each of you.”
Mary Poppins opened her purse and took out three threepenny-bits. She gave one each to Jane and Michael.
“Now,” said Mrs Corry. “Stick ’em on my coat! That’s where they all go.”
They looked closely at her long black coat. And sure enough they found it was studded with threepenny-bits as a Coster’s* coat is with pearl buttons.
“Come along. Stick ’em on!” repeated Mrs Corry, rubbing her hands with pleasant expectation.
“You’ll find they won’t drop off.”
Mary Poppins stepped forward and pressed her threepenny-bit against the collar of Mrs Corry’s coat.
To the surprise of Jane and Michael, it stuck.
Then they put theirs on – Jane’s on the right shoulder and Michael’s on the front hem. Theirs stuck, too.
“How very extraordinary,” said Jane.
“Not at all, my dear,” said Mrs Corry chuckling. “Or rather, not so extraordinary as other things I could mention.” And she winked largely at Mary Poppins.
“I’m afraid we must be off now, Mrs Corry,” said Mary Poppins. “There is Baked Custard* for lunch, and I must be home in time to make it. That Mrs Brill – ”
“A poor cook?” enquired Mrs Corry interrupting,
“Poor!” said Mary Poppins contemptuously. “That’s not the word.”
“Ah!” Mrs Corry put her finger alongside her nose and looked very wise. Then she said,
“Well, my dear Miss Poppins, it has been a very pleasant visit and I am sure my girls have enjoyed it as much as I have.” She nodded in the direction of her two large mournful daughters. “And you’ll come again soon, won’t you, with Jane and Michael and the Babies? Now, are you sure you can carry the Gingerbread?” she continued, turning to Michael and Jane.
They nodded. Mrs Corry drew closer to them, with a curious, important, inquisitive look on her face.
“I wonder,” she said dreamily, “what you will do with the paper stars?”
“Oh, we’ll keep them,” said Jane. “We always do.”
“Ah – you keep them! And I wonder where you keep them?” Mrs Corry’s eyes were half-closed and she looked more inquisitive than ever.
“Well,” Jane began. “Mine are all under my handkerchiefs in the top left-hand drawer and – ”
“Mine are in a shoe-box on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe,” said Michael.
“Top left-hand drawer and shoe-box in the wardrobe,” said Mrs Corry thoughtfully, as though she were committing the words to memory. Then she gave Mary Poppins a long look and nodded her head slightly. Mary Poppins nodded slightly in return. It seemed as if some secret had passed between them.
“Well,” said Mrs Corry brightly, “that is very interesting. You don’t know how glad I am to know you keep your stars. I shall remember that. You see, I remember everything – even what Guy Fawkes* had for dinner every second Sunday. And now, good-bye. Come again soon. Come again so-o-o-o-n!”
Mrs Corry’s voice seemed to be growing fainter and fading away, and presently, without being quite aware of what had happened, Jane and Michael found themselves on the pavement, walking behind Mary Poppins who was again examining her list.
They turned and looked behind them.
“Why, Jane,” said Michael with surprise, “it’s not there!”
“So I see,” said
