If you ask your mother whether she knew about Peter Pan when shewas a little girl she will say, "Why, of course, I did, child,"and if you ask her whether he rode on a goat in those days shewill say, "What a foolish question to ask; certainly he did."Then if you ask your grandmother whether she knew about Peter Panwhen she was a girl, she also says, "Why, of course, I did,child," but if you ask her whether he rode on a goat in thosedays, she says she never heard of his having a goat. Perhaps shehas forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your name and callsyou Mildred, which is your mother's name. Still, she couldhardly forget such an important thing as the goat. Thereforethere was no goat when your grandmother was a little girl. Thisshows that, in telling the story of Peter Pan, to begin with thegoat (as most people do) is as silly as to put on your jacketbefore your vest.

Of course, it also shows that Peter is ever so old, but he isreally always the same age, so that does not matter in the least.His age is one week, and though he was born so long ago he hasnever had a birthday, nor is there the slightest chance of hisever having one. The reason is that he escaped from being ahuman when he was seven days' old; he escaped by the window andflew back to the Kensington Gardens.

If you think he was the only baby who ever wanted to escape, itshows how completely you have forgotten your own young days. When David heard this story first he was quite certain that hehad never tried to escape, but I told him to think back hard,pressing his hands to his temples, and when he had done thishard, and even harder, he distinctly remembered a youthful desireto return to the tree-tops, and with that memory came others, asthat he had lain in bed planning to escape as soon as his motherwas asleep, and how she had once caught him half-way up thechimney. All children could have such recollections if theywould press their hands hard to their temples, for, having beenbirds before they were human, they are naturally a little wildduring the first few weeks, and very itchy at the shoulders,where their wings used to be. So David tells me.

I ought to mention here that the following is our way with astory: First, I tell it to him, and then he tells it to me, theunderstanding being that it is quite a different story; and thenI retell it with his additions, and so we go on until no onecould say whether it is more his story or mine. In this story ofPeter Pan, for instance, the bald narrative and most of the moralreflections are mine, though not all, for this boy can be a sternmoralist, but the interesting bits about the ways and customs ofbabies in the bird-stage are mostly reminiscences of David's,recalled by pressing his hands to his temples and thinking hard.

Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars.Standing on the ledge he could see trees far away, which weredoubtless the Kensington Gardens, and the moment he saw them heentirely forgot that he was now a little boy in a nightgown, andaway he flew, right over the houses to the Gardens. It iswonderful that he could fly without wings, but the place itchedtremendously, and, perhaps we could all fly if we were as dead-confident-sure of our capacity to do it as was bold Peter Panthat evening.

He alighted gaily on the open sward, between the Baby's Palaceand the Serpentine, and the first thing he did was to lie on hisback and kick. He was quite unaware already that he had everbeen human, and thought he was a bird, even in appearance, justthe same as in his early days, and when he tried to catch a flyhe did not understand that the reason he missed it was because hehad attempted to seize it with his hand, which, of course, a birdnever does. He saw, however, that it must be past Lock-out Time,for there were a good many fairies about, all too busy to noticehim; they were getting breakfast ready, milking their cows,drawing water, and so on, and the sight of the water-pails madehim thirsty, so he flew over to the Round Pond to have a drink.He stooped, and dipped his beak in the pond; he thought it washis beak, but, of course, it was only his nose, and, therefore,very little water came up, and that not so refreshing as usual,so next he tried a puddle, and he fell flop into it. When a realbird falls in flop, he spreads out his feathers and pecks themdry, but Peter could not remember what was the thing to do, andhe decided, rather sulkily, to go to sleep on the weeping beechin the Baby Walk.

At first he found some difficulty in balancing himself on abranch, but presently he remembered the way, and fell asleep. Heawoke long before morning, shivering, and saying to himself, "Inever was out in such a cold night;" he had really been out incolder nights when he was a bird, but, of course, as everybodyknows, what seems a warm night to a bird is a cold night to a boyin a nightgown. Peter also felt strangely uncomfortable, as ifhis head was stuffy, he heard loud noises that made him lookround sharply, though they were really himself sneezing. Therewas something he wanted very much, but, though he knew he wantedit, he could not think what it was. What he wanted so much washis mother to blow his nose, but that never struck him, so hedecided to appeal to the fairies for enlightenment. They arereputed to know a good deal.

There were two of them strolling along the Baby Walk, with theirarms round each other's waists, and he hopped down to addressthem. The fairies have their tiffs with the birds, but theyusually give a civil answer to a civil question, and he was quiteangry when these two ran away the moment they saw him. Anotherwas lolling on a garden-chair, reading a postage-stamp which somehuman had let fall, and when he heard Peter's voice he popped inalarm behind a tulip.

To Peter's bewilderment he discovered that every fairy he metfled from him. A band of workmen, who were sawing down atoadstool, rushed away, leaving their tools behind them. Amilkmaid turned her pail upside down and hid in it. Soon theGardens were in an uproar. Crowds of fairies were running thisaway and that, asking each other stoutly, who was afraid, lightswere extinguished, doors barricaded, and from the grounds ofQueen Mab's palace came the rubadub of drums, showing that theroyal guard had been called out. A regiment of Lancers camecharging down the Broad Walk, armed with holly-leaves, with whichthey jog the enemy horribly in passing. Peter heard the littlepeople crying everywhere that there was a human in the Gardensafter Lock-out Time, but he never thought for a moment that hewas the human. He was feeling stuffier and stuffier, and moreand more wistful to learn what he wanted done to his nose, but hepursued them with the vital question in vain; the timid creaturesran from him, and even the Lancers, when he approached them upthe Hump, turned swiftly into a side-walk, on the pretence thatthey saw him there.

Despairing of the fairies, he resolved to consult the birds, butnow he remembered, as an odd thing, that all the birds on theweeping beech had flown away when he alighted on it, and thoughthat had not troubled him at the time, he saw its meaning now.Every living thing was shunning him. Poor little Peter Pan, hesat down and cried, and even then he did not know that, for abird, he was sitting on his wrong part. It is a blessing that hedid not know, for otherwise he would have lost faith in his powerto fly, and the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you ceaseforever to be able to do it. The reason birds can fly and wecan't is simply that they have perfect faith, for to have faithis to have wings.

Now, except by flying, no one can reach the island in theSerpentine, for the boats of humans are forbidden to land there,and there are stakes round it, standing up in the water, on eachof which a bird-sentinel sits by day and night. It was to theisland that Peter now flew to put his strange case before oldSolomon Caw, and he alighted on it with relief, much heartened tofind himself at last at home, as the birds call the island. Allof them were asleep, including the sentinels, except Solomon, whowas wide awake on one side, and he listened quietly to Peter'sadventures, and then told him their true meaning.

"Look at your night-gown, if you don't believe me," Solomon said,and with staring eyes Peter looked at his night-gown, and then atthe sleeping birds. Not one of them wore anything.

"How many of your toes are thumbs?" said Solomon a littlecruelly, and Peter saw to his consternation, that all his toeswere fingers. The shock was so great that it drove away hiscold.

"Ruffle your feathers," said that grim old Solomon, and Petertried most desperately hard to ruffle his feathers, but he hadnone. Then he rose up, quaking, and for the first time since hestood on the window-ledge, he remembered a lady who had been veryfond of him.

"I think I shall go back to mother," he said timidly.

"Good-bye," replied Solomon Caw with a queer look.

But Peter hesitated. "Why don't you go?" the old one askedpolitely.

"I suppose," said Peter huskily, "I suppose I can still fly?"

You see, he had lost faith.

"Poor little half-and-half," said Solomon, who was not reallyhard-hearted, "you will never be able to fly again, not even onwindy days. You must live here on the island always."

"And never even go to the Kensington Gardens?" Peter askedtragically.

"How could you get across?" said Solomon. He promised verykindly, however, to teach Peter as many of the bird ways as couldbe learned by one of such an awkward shape.

"Then I sha'n't be exactly a human?" Peter asked.

"No."

"Nor exactly a bird?"

"No."

"What shall I be?"

"You will be a Betwixt-and-Between," Solomon said, and certainlyhe was a wise old fellow, for that is exactly how it turned out.

The birds on the island never got used to him. His odditiestickled them every day, as if they were quite new, though it wasreally the birds that were new. They came out of the eggs daily,and laughed at him at once, then off they soon flew to be humans,and other birds came out of other eggs, and so it went onforever. The crafty mother-birds, when they tired of sitting ontheir eggs, used to get the young one to break their shells a daybefore the right time by whispering to them that now was theirchance to see Peter washing or drinking or eating. Thousandsgathered round him daily to watch him do these things, just asyou watch the peacocks, and they screamed with delight when helifted the crusts they flung him with his hands instead of in theusual way with the mouth. All his food was brought to him fromthe Gardens at Solomon's orders by the birds. He would not eatworms or insects (which they thought very silly of him), so theybrought him bread in their beaks. Thus, when you cry out,"Greedy! Greedy!" to the bird that flies away with the big crust,you know now that you ought not to do this, for he is very likelytaking it to Peter Pan.

Peter wore no night-gown now. You see, the birds were alwaysbegging him for bits of it to line their nests with, and, beingvery good-natured, he could not refuse, so by Solomon's advice hehad hidden what was left of it. But, though he was now quitenaked, you must not think that he was cold or unhappy. He wasusually very happy and gay, and the reason was that Solomon hadkept his promise and taught him many of the bird ways. To beeasily pleased, for instance, and always to be really doingsomething, and to think that whatever he was doing was a thing ofvast importance. Peter became very clever at helping the birdsto build their nests; soon he could build better than awood-pigeon, and nearly as well as a blackbird, though never didhe satisfy the finches, and he made nice little water-troughsnear the nests and dug up worms for the young ones with hisfingers. He also became very learned in bird-lore, and knew aneast-wind from a west-wind by its smell, and he could see thegrass growing and hear the insects walking about inside thetree-trunks. But the best thing Solomon had done was to teachhim to have a glad heart. All birds have glad hearts unless yourob their nests, and so as they were the only kind of heartSolomon knew about, it was easy to him to teach Peter how to haveone.

Peter's heart was so glad that he felt he must sing all day long,just as the birds sing for joy, but, being partly human, heneeded an instrument, so he made a pipe of reeds, and he used tosit by the shore of the island of an evening, practising thesough of the wind and the ripple of the water, and catchinghandfuls of the shine of the moon, and he put them all in hispipe and played them so beautifully that even the birds weredeceived, and they would say to each other, "Was that a fishleaping in the water or was it Peter playing leaping fish on hispipe?" and sometimes he played the birth of birds, and then themothers would turn round in their nests to see whether they hadlaid an egg. If you are a child of the Gardens you must know thechestnut-tree near the bridge, which comes out in flower first ofall the chestnuts, but perhaps you have not heard why this treeleads the way. It is because Peter wearies for summer and playsthat it has come, and the chestnut being so near, hears him andis cheated.

But as Peter sat by the shore tootling divinely on his pipe hesometimes fell into sad thoughts and then the music became sadalso, and the reason of all this sadness was that he could notreach the Gardens, though he could see them through the arch ofthe bridge. He knew he could never be a real human again, andscarcely wanted to be one, but oh, how he longed to play as otherchildren play, and of course there is no such lovely place toplay in as the Gardens. The birds brought him news of how boysand girls play, and wistful tears started in Peter's eyes.

Perhaps you wonder why he did not swim across. The reason wasthat he could not swim. He wanted to know how to swim, but noone on the island knew the way except the ducks, and they are sostupid. They were quite willing to teach him, but all they couldsay about it was, "You sit down on the top of the water in thisway, and then you kick out like that." Peter tried it often, butalways before he could kick out he sank. What he really neededto know was how you sit on the water without sinking, and theysaid it was quite impossible to explain such an easy thing asthat. Occasionally swans touched on the island, and he would givethem all his day's food and then ask them how they sat on thewater, but as soon as he had no more to give them the hatefulthings hissed at him and sailed away.

Once he really thought he had discovered a way of reaching theGardens. A wonderful white thing, like a runaway newspaper,floated high over the island and then tumbled, rolling over andover after the manner of a bird that has broken its wing. Peterwas so frightened that he hid, but the birds told him it was onlya kite, and what a kite is, and that it must have tugged itsstring out of a boy's hand, and soared away. After that theylaughed at Peter for being so fond of the kite, he loved it somuch that he even slept with one hand on it, and I think this waspathetic and pretty, for the reason he loved it was because ithad belonged to a real boy.

To the birds this was a very poor reason, but the older ones feltgrateful to him at this time because he had nursed a number offledglings through the German measles, and they offered to showhim how birds fly a kite. So six of them took the end of thestring in their beaks and flew away with it; and to his amazementit flew after them and went even higher than they.

Peter screamed out, "Do it again!" and with great good-naturethey did it several times, and always instead of thanking them hecried, "Do it again!" which shows that even now he had not quiteforgotten what it was to be a boy.

At last, with a grand design burning within his brave heart, hebegged them to do it once more with him clinging to the tail, andnow a hundred flew off with the string, and Peter clung to thetail, meaning to drop off when he was over the Gardens. But thekite broke to pieces in the air, and he would have drowned in theSerpentine had he not caught hold of two indignant swans and madethem carry him to the island. After this the birds said thatthey would help him no more in his mad enterprise.

Nevertheless, Peter did reach the Gardens at last by the help ofShelley's boat, as I am now to tell you.