The astounded brothers were dragged away to hack and hew and carry.“Chairs and a fender first,” Peter ordered.“Then we shall build a house round them.”
“Ay,” said Slightly, “that is how a house is built;it all comes back to me.”
Peter thought of everything. “Slightly,” he cried, “fetch a doctor.”
“Ay, ay,” said Slightly at once, and disappeared,scratching his head. But he knew Peter must be obeyed,and he returned in a moment,wearing John’s hat and looking solemn.
“Please, sir,” said Peter, going to him, “are you a doctor?”
The difference between him and the other boys at such a time was that they knew it was make-believe, while to him make-believe and true were exactly the same thing. This sometimes troubled them, as when they had to make-believe that they had had their dinners.
If they broke down in their make-believe he rapped them on the knuckles.
“Yes, my little man,” Slightly anxiously replied,who had chapped knuckles.
“Please, sir,” Peter explained, “a lady lies very ill.”
She was lying at their feet,but Slightly had the sense not to see her.
“Tut, tut, tut,” he said, “where does she lie?”
“In yonder glade.”
“I will put a glass thing in her mouth,” said Slightly,and he made-believe to do it, while Peter waited.It was an anxious moment when the glass thing was withdrawn.
“How is she?” inquired Peter.
“Tut, tut, tut,” said Slightly, “this has cured her.”
“I am glad!” Peter cried.
“I will call again in the evening,” Slightly said;“give her beef tea out of a cup with a spout to it;” but after he had returned the hat to John he blew big breaths,which was his habit on escaping from a difficulty.
In the meantime the wood had been alive with the sound of axes;almost everything needed for a cosy dwelling already lay at Wendy’s feet.
“If only we knew,” said one,“the kind of house she likes best.”
“Peter,” shouted another, “she is moving in her sleep.”
“Her mouth opens,” cried a third,looking respectfully into it. “Oh, lovely!”
“Perhaps she is going to sing in her sleep,” said Peter.“Wendy, sing the kind of house you would like to have.”
Immediately, without opening her eyes,Wendy began to sing:
“I wish I had a pretty house, The littlest ever seen,With funny little red walls And roof of mossy green.”
They gurgled with joy at this,for by the greatest good luck the branches they had brought were sticky with red sap, and all the ground was carpeted with moss. As they rattled up the little house they broke into song themselves:
“We’ve built the little walls and roof And made a lovely door,So tell us, mother Wendy, What are you wanting more?”
To this she answered greedily:
“Oh, really next I think I’ll have Gay windows all about,With roses peeping in, you know,And babies peeping out.”
With a blow of their fists they made windows,and large yellow leaves were the blinds. But roses—?
“Roses,” cried Peter sternly.
Quickly they made-believe to grow the loveliest roses up the walls.
Babies?
To prevent Peter ordering babies they hurried into song again:
“We’ve made the roses peeping out,The babes are at the door, We cannot make ourselves,you know,’Cos we’ve been made before.”
Peter, seeing this to be a good idea,at once pretended that it was his own.The house was quite beautiful,and no doubt Wendy was very cosy within, though,of course, they could no longer see her.Peter strode up and down, ordering finishing touches.Nothing escaped his eagle eyes.Just when it seemed absolutely finished:
“There’s no knocker on the door,” he said.
They were very ashamed,but Tootles gave the sole of his shoe,and it made an excellent knocker.
Absolutely finished now, they thought.
Not of bit of it. “There’s no chimney,” Peter said;“we must have a chimney.”
“It certainly does need a chimney,” said John importantly. This gave Peter an idea.He snatched the hat off John’s head,knocked out the bottom, and put the hat on the roof.The little house was so pleased to have such a capital chimney that,as if to say thank you,smoke immediately began to come out of the hat.
Now really and truly it was finished.Nothing remained to do but to knock.
“All look your best,” Peter warned them;“first impressions are awfully important.”
He was glad no one asked him what first impressions are;they were all too busy looking their best.
He knocked politely,and now the wood was as still as the children,not a sound to be heard except from Tinker Bell,who was watching from a branch and openly sneering.
What the boys were wondering was,would any one answer the knock?If a lady, what would she be like?
The door opened and a lady came out. It was Wendy.They all whipped off their hats.
She looked properly surprised,and this was just how they had hoped she would look.
“Where am I?” she said.
Of course Slightly was the first to get his word in.“Wendy lady,” he said rapidly,“for you we built this house.”
“Oh, say you’re pleased,” cried Nibs.
“Lovely, darling house,” Wendy said,and they were the very words they had hoped she would say.
“And we are your children,” cried the twins.
Then all went on their knees,and holding out their arms cried, “O Wendy lady, be our mother.”
“Ought I?” Wendy said, all shining.“Of course it’s frightfully fascinating,but you see I am only a little girl.I have no real experience.”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Peter,as if he were the only person present who knew all about it,though he was really the one who knew least.“What we need is just a nice motherly person.”
“Oh dear!” Wendy said, “you see,I feel that is exactly what I am.”
“It is, it is,” they all cried; “we saw it at once.”
“Very well,” she said, “I will do my best.Come inside at once, you naughty children;I am sure your feet are damp.And before I put you to bed I have just time to finish the story of Cinderella. ”
In they went; I don’t know how there was room for them,but you can squeeze very tight in the Neverland.And that was the first of the many joyous evenings they had with Wendy.By and by she tucked them up in the great bed in the home under the trees,but she herself slept that night in the little house,and Peter kept watch outside with drawn sword,for the pirates could be heard carousing far away and the wolves were on the prowl. The little house looked so cosy and safe in the darkness, with a bright light showing through its blinds, and the chimney smoking beautifully, and Peter standing on guard. After a time he fell asleep, and some unsteady fairies had to climb over him on their way home from an orgy. Any of the other boys obstructing the fairy path at night they would have mischiefed, but they just tweaked Peter’s nose and passed on.
Chapter VII. THE HOME UNDER THE GROUND
One of the first things Peter did next day was to measure Wendy and John and Michael for hollow trees. Hook, you remember, had sneered at the boys for thinking they needed a tree apiece, but this was ignorance, for unless your tree fitted you it was difficult to go up and down, and no two of the boys were quite the same size. Once you fitted, you drew in your breath at the top, and down you went at exactly the right speed, while to ascend you drew in and let out alternately, and so wriggled up. Of course, when you have mastered the action you are able to do these things without thinking of them, and nothing can be more graceful.
But you simply must fit,and Peter measures you for your tree as carefully as for a suit of clothes:the only difference being that the clothes are made to fit you,while you have to be made to fit the tree.Usually it is done quite easily,as by your wearing too many garments or too few,but if you are bumpy in awkward places or the only available tree is an odd shape, Peter does some things to you, and after that you fit. Once you fit, great care must be taken to go on fitting, and this, as Wendy was to discover to her delight, keeps a whole family in perfect condition.