MRS. DARLING (obligingly). Yes.
PETER. And then to an office?
MRS. DARLING. I suppose so.
PETER. Soon I should be a man?
MRS. DARLING. Very soon.
PETER (passionately). I don’t want to go to school and learn solemn things. No one is going to catch me, lady, and make me a man. I want always to be a little boy and to have fun.
(So perhaps he thinks, but it is only his greatest pretend.)
MRS. DARLING (shivering every time WENDY pursues him in the air). Where are you to live, Peter?
PETER. In the house we built for Wendy. The fairies are to put it high up among the tree-tops where they sleep at night.
WENDY (rapturously). To think of it!
MRS. DARLING. I thought all the fairies were dead.
WENDY (almost reprovingly). No indeed! Their mothers drop the babies into the Never birds’ nests, all mixed up with the eggs, and the mauve fairies are boys and the white ones are
