# The Story of Peter Pan/Part I

Illustrations by: Alice Bolingbroke Woodward
Part I
Early Days
THE STORY OF PETER PAN
EARLY DAYS
IN one of the nicest nurseries in the world there were beds for three young people called John Napoleon, and Wendy Moira Angela, and Michael, the children of Mr. and Mrs. Darling. The nursery was wide and airy, with a large window, and a bright fire with a high fire-guard round it, and a big clock, and prettily-coloured nursery-rhyme pictures over the walls. It was in many ways a most interesting household. For one thing, although ​there was a pretty little parlour-maid called Liza, the children were bathed and dressed by a big dog called Nana, whose kennel was kept in the nursery.
On the evening on which our story begins, Nana was dozing peacefully by the fireside, with her head between her paws. Mr. and Mrs. Darling were getting ready to go out to dinner and Nana was to be left in sole charge of the children. Presently the clock went off with a whirr, and struck—one, two, three, four, five, six—time to begin to put the children to bed.
WITH MICHAEL SITTING ON HER BACK.
​could not fasten his evening tie (evening ties are difficult things to fasten, you know). Mrs. Darling easily managed that for him, and he was soon skipping about the room with Michael on his back, dropping him finally into his bed with a big "bump-ah!"——
Unfortunately, in going to the bathroom, Nana accidentally brushed against Mr. Darling's beautifully pressed black trousers, and left some of her grey clinging hairs upon them. Now no grown-up person likes hairy trousers, so Mr. Darling was very cross with Nana, and spoke of dismissing her. But Mrs. Darling told him about the weird apparition at the window, how Nana had barked at it and shut the window down so fast that its shadow had been cut clean off and left behind. She showed him the shadow, and told him how glad she was to have such a treasure as Nana for a nurse. "You see how very useful Nana is," concluded ​Mrs. Darling, as the faithful dog came in with Michael's bottle of cough mixture. But Michael was naughty, and would not take it; there was a fine fuss over it, when Wendy, being a clever little girl, hit on a brilliant idea.
"Father should take some of his medicine to keep Michael company."
Everything in the big nursery was now still and quiet. Suddenly the night-lights flickered, waned, and went out one by one, and there darted into the room a tiny ball of fire, which flitted uneasily about and finally vanished into a jug. Then the same slender graceful figure that had so startled Mrs. Darling leapt from the darkness outside the window. There was just one click, the window was open, and the little creature stepped cautiously in. He seemed to be looking for something; and you will easily guess that what he was looking for was his shadow. "Tink, where are you?" he whispered, and as then the light shone on the jug he went on: "Tink, do you know where they have put it?"
Now this little ball of light was really a fairy girl who knew everything worth knowing. Most fairies do. All you ​could see of her was the little flame, but you could hear her distinctly, she made a tinkling noise like a little silver bell, and that was why she was called Tinker Bell. Tinker Bell at last rested a few moments on the second drawer of the nursery dresser; instantly the boy ran joyfully to it, and pulling open the drawer snatched out his shadow neatly rolled up, just as Mrs. Darling had left it. He had found it certainly, but the next trouble was to put it on again. A happy thought struck him; he would stick it on with soap! Sitting on the hearthrug, he soaped his feet and then he soaped his shadow, but whichever way he soaped they would not stick together. There is no use in having a shadow if it will not stick to you. After trying and trying in vain the poor little fellow gave up the ​attempt, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed despairingly.
It was then that Wendy awoke. She sat right up in bed, and, not at all frightened, said: "Little boy, why are you crying?"
The elfin creature sprang to his feet, and taking off his cap, bowed very politely. Wendy curtsied in return, though she found it a difficult thing to do in bed.
"What's your name?" asked the little boy.
"Wendy Moira Angela Darling. What's yours?"
"Peter Pan."
"Where do you live?"
"Second turning to the right, and straight on till morning."
This seemed to Wendy a very funny address, but she was all sympathy when she heard that Peter had no mother. No wonder he was crying! But that was not the reason for Peter's tears; he was crying ​because he could not get his shadow to stick on. This made Wendy smile, and she emphatically declared that soap was no good. It must be sewn on.
"Shall I do it for you?" she suggested, and, jumping out of bed to get her work-basket, she set to work at once. It hurts a good deal to have a shadow sewn on to your feet, but Peter bore it bravely. It was the right thing to do, for the shadow held on beautifully, and Peter was so delighted that he danced up and down the nursery watching it making patterns on the floor as he flung his arms and legs about.
"Oh! the cleverness of me!" cried ​Peter, overcome with joy, and he crowed with pleasure, for all the world just as a cock would crow.
"You conceit," exclaimed Wendy indignantly, "of course I did nothing!"
"Oh! you did a little!"
"A little! If I am no use I can at least withdraw," she said, jumping back into bed and covering her head in a dignified way with the bedclothes.
"Oh! Wendy, please don't withdraw," Peter exclaimed in great distress. "I can't help crowing when I'm pleased with myself. One girl is more use than twenty boys."
THE SHADOW HELD ON BEAUTIFULLY.
​know what a kiss was, but being a nice little girl of motherly disposition, she did not hurt his feelings by laughing at him, but simply placed the thimble on his finger.
Peter admired the thimble very much. "Shall I give you a kiss?" he asked and, jerking a button off his coat, solemnly presented it to her.
Wendy at once fastened it on a chain which she wore round her neck, and, forgetting the puzzle in his mind, she once more asked him for a kiss.
Immediately he returned the thimble. "Oh! I didn't mean a kiss, I meant a thimble!"
"What's that?" he asked.
"It's like this," replied Wendy, and gently kissed his cheek.
​"But Peter, how old are you?" continued Wendy.
"I don't know, but quite young. I ran away the day I was born."
"Ran away—why?"
"Because I heard my father and mother talking about what I was to be when I became a man. I don't want to be a man. I want always to be a little boy and have fun. So I ran away and lived among the fairies."
Wendy was almost speechless with delight at the thought of sitting beside a boy who knew fairies, and after a minute said: "Peter, do you really know fairies?"
WENDY GENTLY KISSED HIS CHEEK.
​beginning of fairies. And now, whenever a new baby is born, its first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be a fairy for every little boy and girl, but there isn't. You see children know such a lot now. They soon won't believe in fairies, and whenever a child says: 'I don't believe in fairies,' there's a fairy somewhere that falls down dead."
"But Peter," continued Wendy, "if you don't live with the fairies, where do you live?"
"I live with the Lost Boys."
"Who are they?"
"Why, they are the children who fall out of their perambulators when their nurses are looking the other way. If they are not claimed within seven days, they are sent far away to the Never-Never-Never Land to defray expenses. I'm their Captain."
"Oh! what fun! But, Peter, why did you come to our nursery window?"
Peter told her that he came to listen to the lovely stories Wendy's mother related to her children, for the Lost Boys ​had no mothers, and no one to tell them any stories. He also told her how he led them against their enemies, the pirates and the wolves, and how they enjoyed bathing in the Lagoon, where beautiful mermaids sang and swam all day long.
"I must go back now," he went on, "the boys will be anxious to hear the end of the story about the Prince and the Glass Slipper. I told them as much as I knew, and they're longing to hear the rest."
Wendy begged him to stay.
"I'll tell you lots more," she promised, "ever so many stories if you'll only stay."
​It was a tempting idea to Wendy, but a sudden thought came across her mind. "Peter, I can't! Think of Mummy! Besides, I can't fly."
"I'll teach you, Wendy."
This was too much for her. "Peter, will you teach John and Michael to fly as well?"
"Yes, if you like."
So John and Michael were awakened, and directly they heard that there were pirates in the Never-Never-Never Land they began to clamour to go at once. They watched Peter fly about the room, and tried to imitate him, flapping their ​arms clumsily at first like unfledged birds, and flopping about all over the place.
"That will never do," Peter said, "I must blow the fairy dust on you. Now waggle your shoulders as I do."
So they tried, and found that they could fly; just a little at first, from the bed to the floor and back again; then over the bed and across the room, and then, as they grew braver, almost as freely and easily as Peter himself.
"Tink, lead the way!" called Peter, and the fairy shot out like a little star. None of the children had time to put on their day clothes, but John snatched his top hat as he flew out of the window, followed by Michael. Peter Pan held Wendy's hand, and away they floated into the dark blue depths of the starry night.
AWAY THEY FLOATED