dead? (None of them can say as to that.) Whose arrow? (Not one of them looks at TOOTLES.)
TOOTLES. Mine, Peter.
PETER (raising it as a dagger). Oh dastard hand!
TOOTLES (kneeling and baring his breast). Strike, Peter; strike true.
PETER (undergoing a singular experience). I cannot strike; there is something stays my hand.
(In fact WENDY’S arm has risen.)
NIBS. ’Tis she, the Wendy lady. See, her arm. (To help a friend) I think she said ‘Poor Tootles.’
PETER (investigating). She lives!
SLIGHTLY (authoritatively). The Wendy lady lives.
(The delightful feeling that they have been cleverer than they thought comes over them and they applaud themselves.)
PETER (holding up a button that is attached to her chain). See, the arrow struck against this. It is a kiss I gave her; it has saved her life.
SLIGHTLY. I remember kisses; let me see it. (He takes it in his hand.) Ay, that is a kiss.
