How old he was. It was not really a happy question to ask him; it was like an examination paper that asked grammar, when what you want to be asked
is Kings of England.
“I don't know,” he replied gloomily, “but I am quite young." He really
knew nothing about it. "Wendy, I ran away the day I was born. It was be-
was to be when I
cause I heard father and mother talking about what I
became a man. I don't want ever to be a man. On the contrary, I want al-
ways to be a little boy and to have fun. So I ran away to Kensington Gar-
dens and lived a long, long time among the fairies."
Wendy had lived such a home life that to know fairies struck her as quite
wonderful. She poured out questions about fairies and though the questions
were rather a nuisance to him, Peter told her what he knew. Then Wendy
asked him more questions.
“If you don't live in Kensington Gardens now —”
"Sometimes I do still,” Peter mumbled.
"But where do you live mostly now?"
“With the lost boys."
"Who are they?” Wendy seemed much interested.
“They are the children who fall out of their prams when the nurse is
looking the other way. If they are not asked back in seven days, they are
sent far away to the Neverland. I'm a captain."
“What fun it must be!” said Wendy in fascination.
“Yes,” said cunning? Peter, “but we are rather lonely. You see we have
no girlfriends."
"Are there no girls?”
“Oh no, girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their prams."
Wendy was impressed. “I think,” she said, “it is perfectly lovely the way
you talk about girls; my brother John just despises us.”
Wendy felt she was having a real adventure. She was just slightly disap-
pointed when Peter said that he came to her window not to see her but to
listen to stories which her mother told every evening.
"You see I don't know any stories for some reason. None of the lost boys
knows any stories,” said Peter with regret.
"How perfectly awful,” Wendy said. “Can you all be under the spell?”
"I am not sure,” Peter answered. “O Wendy, your mother was telling you
such a lovely story.
"Which story was it?”
"About the prince who couldn't find the lady who wore the glass slippers."
"Peter,” said Wendy excitedly, "that was Cinderella, the prince was desper-
ate to find her and he did. They lived happily ever after.”
Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor, where they had been sit-
ting, and hurried to the window.
“Where are you going?” she cried.
"To tell the other boys."