Peter Pan: Chapters 7–11

It could be shut off from the rest of the house by a tiny curtain, which Tink, who was most fastidious [particular], always kept drawn when dressing or undressing.

No woman, however large, could have had a more exquisite boudoir [dressing room] and bed-chamber combined.

You never exactly knew whether there would be a real meal or just a make-believe, it all depended upon Peter's whim: he could eat, really eat, if it was part of a game, but he could not stodge [cram down the food] just to feel stodgy [stuffed with food], which is what most children like better than anything else; the next best thing being to talk about it.

When she sat down to a basketful of their stockings, every heel with a hole in it, she would fling up her arms and exclaim, “Oh dear, I am sure I sometimes think spinsters are to be envied!”

It was a sanguinary affair, and especially interesting as showing one of Peter's peculiarities, which was that in the middle of a fight he would suddenly change sides.

The extraordinary upshot of this adventure was—but we have not decided yet that this is the adventure we are to narrate.

They treated all the boys in the same way, except of course Peter, who chatted with them on Marooners' Rock by the hour, and sat on their tails when they got cheeky.

Nevertheless we have proof that they secretly watched the interlopers, and were not above taking an idea from them; for John introduced a new way of hitting the bubble, with the head instead of the hand, and the mermaids adopted it.

Little shivers ran over it, and the sun went away and shadows stole across the water, turning it cold. Wendy could no longer see to thread her needle, and when she looked up, the lagoon that had always hitherto been such a laughing place seemed formidable and unfriendly.

While that smile was on his face no one dared address him; all they could do was to stand ready to obey. The order came sharp and incisive.

Yet her face was impassive; she was the daughter of a chief, she must die as a chief's daughter, it is enough.

He was roused from this dejection by Smee's eager voice.

“That is all right, captain,” Smee answered complacently; “we let her go.”

“Brimstone and gall,” thundered Hook, “what cozening [cheating] is going on here!”

Hook tried a more ingratiating manner.

Now Peter could never resist a game, and he answered blithely in his own voice, “I have.”

Of course in his pride he was carrying the game too far, and the miscreants [villains] saw their chance.

A few moments afterwards the other boys saw Hook in the water striking wildly for the ship; no elation on the pestilent face now, only white fear, for the crocodile was in dogged pursuit of him.

The children had discovered the glittering hoard, and when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores, diamonds, pearls and pieces of eight to the gulls, who pounced upon them for food, and then flew away, raging at the scurvy trick that had been played upon them.

...they grovelled at his feet...

She was far too pretty to cringe in this way, but Peter thought it his due, and he would answer condescendingly, “It is good. Peter Pan has spoken.”

The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat around the board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with their chatter and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was positively deafening.

“I don't suppose,” Tootles said diffidently [bashfully or timidly], “that I could be father.”

“Wendy,” remonstrated [scolded] Michael, “I'm too big for a cradle.”

“Peter, you just spoil them, you know,” Wendy simpered [exaggerated a smile].

“But on a Saturday night,” Slightly insinuated.

“But it is only among our own progeny [children].”

“Ah, old lady,” Peter said aside to Wendy, warming himself by the fire and looking down at her as she sat turning a heel, “there is nothing more pleasant of an evening for you and me when the day's toil is over than to rest by the fire with the little ones near by.”

“Oh, very well,” Peter said, a little nettled. “Perhaps Tinker Bell will tell me.”

Here Tink, who was in her bedroom, eavesdropping, squeaked out something impudent.

So uproariously gay was the dance, and how they buffeted each other on the bed and out of it!

It was a pillow fight rather than a dance, and when it was finished, the pillows insisted on one bout more, like partners who know that they may never meet again.

“Quiet,” their mother admonished [cautioned] them.

Ah, now we are rewarded for our sublime faith in a mother's love.

So great indeed was their faith in a mother's love that they felt they could afford to be callous for a bit longer.

“What is it, Peter?” she cried, running to him, thinking he was ill. She felt him solicitously, lower down than his chest. “Where is it, Peter?”

They all gathered round him in affright, so alarming was his agitation; and with a fine candour he told them what he had hitherto concealed.

They all gathered round him in affright, so alarming was his agitation; and with a fine candour he told them what he had hitherto concealed.

Of course it was only water, but it was out of a bottle, and she always shook the bottle and counted the drops, which gave it a certain medicinal quality. On this occasion, however, she did not give Peter his draught [portion], for just as she had prepared it, she saw a look on his face that made her heart sink.

“If you find your mothers,” he said darkly, “I hope you will like them.”
The awful cynicism of this made an uncomfortable impression, and most of them began to look rather doubtful.