girls, and there are some colours who don’t know what they are. The row the children and the birds make at bath time is positively deafening.
PETER. I throw things at them.
WENDY. You will be rather lonely in the evenings, Peter.
PETER. I shall have Tink.
WENDY (flying up to the window). Mother, may I go?
MRS. DARLING (gripping her for ever). Certainly not. I have got you home again, and I mean to keep you.
WENDY. But he does so need a mother.
MRS. DARLING. So do you, my love.
PETER. Oh, all right.
MRS. DARLING (magnanimously). But, Peter, I shall let her go to you once a year for a week to do your spring cleaning.
(WENDY revels in this, but PETER, who has no notion what a spring cleaning is, waves a rather careless thanks.)
MRS. DARLING. Say good-night, Wendy.
