As she slowly strolled down the grassy knoll, a light breeze blew through her hair. She squinted through the gusts at the scene around her. She watched gleeful children romping and frolicking about the grounds, trying their hands at the jungle gym, slide and swings. Six-year-old Mary Poppins sighed, sloppily brushing her auburn hair out of her face. Perhaps today will be different, she thought hopefully. She gathered up all the courage she could muster, and marched over to the swing set. A boy who looked to be about her age took the good swing, so Mary had to settle for the one that squeaked. It made such a racket that it often attracted much unwanted attention from others in the park. She sat, stationary, too afraid to move and cause others to notice her. After a while of silence, she finally spoke:

"I'm Mary," she said, peering curiously over her shoulder at the blonde boy.

"Bert." He said, barely offering a glance, and pumping his legs harder.

"The weather is lovely, isn't it?" She offered, trying to start a conversation.

"You talk funny." He said, still focused on whatever was in front of him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said you talk funny. All grown-up like." He jumped off the swing, landing on all fours. As he wiped his hands on his pant legs, Mary grimaced. He turned to her, slightly throwing his head to the side to remove any wisps of hair that might have blocked his vision. "You're pretty." He smiled, she blushed. "Want t'see what I found near the pond?" He offered. Mary nodded, her eyes widening as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out the treasure and Mary raised her eyebrows; she was obviously unimpressed.

"Why, that's nothing but a silly old rock."

"Gee whiz, ain't you ever seen a piece of chalk?"

"I have. They come crisp in little boxes. That's not chalk at all."

"Ain't it?" He got down on his knees and drew a lopsided circle on the asphalt. "See there? She draws like a beaut! What'll it be?"

"Excuse me?"

"Come now, what can I draw for you?"

"Erm… a house," Mary said, a bit unsure of herself. She watched as he drew a box, and topped it off with a triangle. "What's that bit over there?" She asked, pointing to a shape on the roof.

"That's the chimney, that is! Me dad's a chimney sweep, Mary."

"A chimney sweep?"

"Don't tell me you've never 'eard of a chimney sweep!" Mary was silent. "Don't you 'av a chimney, Mary?"

"I can't say I have." Mary was growing impatient. What on earth was this boy going on about?

"Chimney sweeps are the luckiest lot, they are! I go sometimes with me dad to his job. He gets to climb the highest rooftops in all of London. You can see out forever up there. It's almost like flying!"

Mary shot him a look, "How do you know what flying is like?"

"Oh," he giggled, "I don't, but I imagine it'd be just like bein' a chimney sweep. Up there, being able to see everything going on from the ground all the way t'the sky."

Mary began to fidget. "Seeing everything? In the sky too?"

"Oh, sure!" He smiled, she gulped.

"My, my, look at the time!" Mary said suddenly, glancing at a watch-less wrist. "I must be going, I hadn't realized how late it was!" She jumped off the swing and began to run up the hill.

"Mary?" Bert called, chasing after her, "You don't 'av a watch, Mary… are you going to tell me it's skin-o'clock?" He stopped, panting away, trying to catch his breath, and watched the girl's silhouette disappear into the distance.