Because that, for me, is where the magic lies, the glimpses of the magical in the mundane, the stars which you know are just paper, slightly sticky from gingerbread traces, but which you treasure anyway, and the mundane in the magical, the night sky bright with constellations, which a moment ago were just your own hoard of paper stars. "What I want to know," says Jane, "is this: Are the stars gold paper, or is the gold paper stars?" And what I want to answer is "Yes."

I love this moment so very much.

Mrs. Banks tends to ask Mary Poppins rather nervously if she wouldn't mind doing the shopping today. It sounds like extra work, which might either put her in a fierce temper or lead to revelations or both.

Nine