Mary Poppins Opens the Door (Puffin Books)

Product Description

From the moment Mary Poppins arrives at Number Seventeen Cherry-Tree Lane, everyday life at the Banks house is forever changed. This classic series tells the story of the world's most beloved nanny, who brings enchantment and excitement with her everywhere she goes. Featuring the charming original cover art by Mary Shepard, these new editions are sure to delight readers of all ages.

Mary Poppins reappears just in time! According to her tape measure, Jane and Michael have grown "Worse and Worse" since she went away. But the children won't have time to be naughty with all that Mary has planned for them. A visit to Mr. Twigley’s music box-filled attic, an encounter with the Marble Boy, and a ride on Miss Calico’s enchanted candy canes are all part of an average day out with everyone's favorite nanny.


Review

"I, who hailed her [earlier] as a 'delightful new character who has come to stay' think
Mary Poppins Opens the Door is even better--so rich it is in nursery lore, so sparkling with magic, so warmly understanding of children."--
The Horn Book


About the Author

P. L. Travers (1899-1996) was a drama critic, travel essayist, reviewer, lecturer, and the creator of Mary Poppins. Ms. Travers wrote several other books for adults and children, but it is for the character of Mary Poppins that she is best remembered.




MARY SHEPARD (1910-2000) was the daughter of Ernest Shepard, illustrator of the Winnie the Pooh books and The Wind in the Willows. She illustrated P. L. Travers's Mary Poppins books for more than fifty years.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The Fifth of ­November
  
 
It was one of those bleak and chilly mornings that remind you winter is coming. Cherry-Tree Lane was quiet and still. The mist hung over the Park like a shadow. All the houses looked exactly alike as the grey fog wrapped them round. Admiral Boom’s flagstaff, with the telescope at the top of it, had entirely ­disappeared.
 
           The Milkman, as he turned into the Lane, could hardly see his ­way.
 
           “Milk Be­-­l­-­o­-­o­-­ow!” he called, outside the Admiral’s door. And his voice sounded so queer and hollow that it gave him quite a ­fright.
 
           “I’ll go ’ome till the fog lifts,” he said to himself. “’Ere! Look where you’re goin’!” he went on, as a shape loomed suddenly out of the mist and bumped against his ­shoulder.
 
           “Bumble, bumble, bum­-­bur­-­um­-­bumble,” said a gentle, muffled ­voice.
 
           “Oh, it’s you!” said the Milkman, with a sigh of ­relief.
 
           “Bumble,” remarked the Sweep again. He was holding his brushes in front of his face to keep his moustache ­dry.
 
           “Out early, aren’t you?” the Milkman ­said.
    The Sweep gave a jerk of his black thumb towards Miss Lark’s ­house.
 
           “Had to do the chimbley before the dogs had breakfast. In case the soot gave them a cough,” he ­explained.
 
           The Milkman laughed rudely. For that was what everybody did when Miss Lark’s two dogs were ­men­tioned.
 
           The mist went wreathing through the air. There was not a sound in the ­Lane.
 
           “Ugh!” said the Milkman, shivering. “This quiet gives me the ­’Orrors!”
 
           And as he said that, the Lane woke up. A sudden roar came from one of the houses and the sound of stamping ­feet.
 
           “That’s Number Seventeen!” said the Sweep. “Excuse me, old chap. I think I’m needed.” He cautiously felt his way to the gate and went up the garden ­path. . . .
 
 
 
Inside the house, Mr. Banks was marching up and down, kicking the hall ­furniture.
 
           “I’ve had about all I can stand!” he shouted, waving his arms ­wildly.
 
           “You keep on saying that,” Mrs. Banks cried. “But you won’t tell me what’s the matter.” She looked at Mr. Banks ­anxiously.
AMILY: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'" 
           “Everything’s the mat