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Why not take it at the same time?

      MR. DARLING (haughtily). Certainly. Are you ready, Michael?

      WENDY (as nothing has happened). One—two—three.

      (MICHAEL partakes, but MR. DARLING resorts to hanky-panky.)

      JOHN. Father hasn't taken his!

      (MICHAEL howls.)

      WENDY (inexpressibly pained). Oh father!

      MR. DARLING (who has been hiding the glass behind him).What do you mean by 'oh father'? Stop that row, Michael. I meant to take mine but I—missed it. (NANA shakes her head sadly over him, and goes into the bathroom. They are all looking as if they did not admire him, and nothing so dashes a temperamental man.) I say, I have just thought of a splendid joke. (They brighten.) I shall pour my medicine into Nana's bowl, and she will drink it thinking it is milk! The pleasantry does not appeal, but he prepares the joke, listening for appreciation.)

      WENDY. Poor darling Nana!

      MR. DARLING. You silly little things; to your beds everyone of you; I am ashamed of you.

      (They steal to their beds as MRS. DARLING returns with the chocolate.)

      MRS. DARLING. Well, is it all over?

      MICHAEL. Father didn't——(Father glares.)

      MR. DARLING. All over, dear, quite satisfactorily. (NANA comes back.) Nana, good dog, good girl; I have put a little milk into your bowl. (The bowl is by the kennel, and NANA begins to lap, only begins. She retreats into the kennel.)

      MRS. DARLING. What is the matter, Nana?

      MR. DARLING (uneasily). Nothing, nothing.

      MRS. DARLING (smelling the bowl). George, it is your medicine!

      (The children break into lamentation. He gives his wife an imploring look; he is begging for one smile, but does not get it. In consequence he goes from bad to worse.)

      MR. DARLING. It was only a joke. Much good my wearing myself to the bone trying to be funny in this house.

      WENDY (on her knees by the kennel). Father, Nana is crying.

      MR. DARLING. Coddle her; nobody coddles me. Oh dear no. I am only the bread-winner, why should I be coddled? Why, why, why?

      MRS. DARLING. George, not so loud; the servants will hearyou.

      (There is only one maid, absurdly small too, but they have got into the way of calling her the servants.)

      MR. DARLING (defiant). Let them hear me; bring in the whole world. ( The desperate man, who has not been in fresh air for days, has now lost all self-control.) I refuse to allow that dog to lord it in my nursery for one hour longer. (NANA supplicates him.) In vain, in vain, the proper place for you is the yard, and there you go to be tied up this instant.

      (NANA again retreats into the kennel, and the children add their prayers to hers.)

      MRS. DARLING (who knows how contrite he will be for this presently). George, George, remember what I told you about that boy.

      MR. DARLING. Am I master in this house or is she? (To NANA fiercely) Come along. (He thunders at her, but she indicates that she has reasons not worth troubling him with for remaining where she is. He resorts to a false bonhomie.) There, there, did she think he was angry with her, poor Nana? (She wriggles a response in the affirmative.) Good Nana, pretty Nana. (She has seldom been called pretty, and it has the old effect. She plays rub-a-dub with her paws, which is how a dog blushes.) She will come to her kind master, won't she? won't she? (She advances, retreats, waggles her head, her tail, and eventually goes to him. He seizes her collar in an iron grip and amid the cries of his progeny drags her from the room. They listen, for her remonstrances are not inaudible.)

      MRS. DARLING. Be brave, my dears.

      WENDY. He is chaining Nana up!

      (This unfortunately is what he is doing, though we cannot see him. Let us hope that he then retires to his study, looks up the word 'temper' in his Thesaurus, and under the influence of those benign pages becomes a better man. In the meantime the children have been put to bed in unwonted silence, and MRS. DARLING lights the night-lights over the beds.)

      JOHN (as the barking below goes on). She is awfully unhappy.

      WENDY. That is not Nana's unhappy bark. That is her bark when she smells danger.

      MRS. DARLING (remembering that boy). Danger! Are you sure, Wendy?

      WENDY (the one of the family, for there is one in every family, who can be trusted to know or not to know). Oh yes.

      (Her mother looks this way and that from the window.)

      JOHN. Is anything there?

      MRS. DARLING. All quite quiet and still. Oh, how I wish I was not going out to dinner to-night.

      MICHAEL. Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?

      MRS. DARLING. Nothing precious. They are the eyes amother leaves behind her to guard her children.

      (Nevertheless we may be sure she means to tell LIZA, the little maid, to look in on them frequently till she comes home. She goes from bed to bed, after her custom, tucking them in and crooning a lullaby.)

      MICHAEL (drowsily). Mother, I 'm glad of you.

      MRS. DARLING (with a last look round, her hand on the switch). Dear night-lights that protect my sleeping babes, burn clear and steadfast to-night.

      (The nursery darkens and she is gone, intentionally leaving the door ajar. Something uncanny is going to happen, we expect, for a quiver has passed through the room, just sufficient to touch the night-lights. They blink three times one after the other and go out, precisely as children (whom familiarity has made them resemble) fall asleep. There is another light in the room now, no larger than MRS. DARLING'S fist, and in the time we have taken to say this it has been into the drawers and wardrobe and searched pockets, as it darts about looking for a certain shadow. Then the window is blown open, probably by the smallest and therefore most mischievous star, and PETER PAN flies into the room. In so far as he is dressed at all it is in autumn leaves and cobwebs.)

      PETER (in a whisper). Tinker Bell, Tink, are you there? (A jug lights up.) Oh, do come out of that jug. (TINKflashes hither and thither?) Do you know where they put it? (The answer comes as of a tinkle of bells; it is the fairy language. PETER can speak it, but it bores him.) Which big box? This one? But which drawer? Yes, do show me. (TINK pops into the drawer where the shadow is, but beforePETER can reach it, WENDY moves in her sleep. He flies onto the mantelshelf as a hiding-place. Then, as she has not waked, he flutters over the beds as an easy way to observe the occupants, closes the window softly, wafts himself to the drawer and scatters its contents to the floor, as kings on their wedding day toss ha'pence to the crowd. In his joy at finding his shadow he forgets that he has shut up TINK in the drawer. He sits on the floor with the shadow, confident that he and it will join like drops of water. Then he tries to stick it on with soap from the bathroom, and this failing also, he subsides dejectedly on the floor. This wakens WENDY, who sits up, and is pleasantly interested to see a stranger.)

      WENDY (courteously). Boy, why are you crying?

      (He jump up, and crossing to the foot of the bed bows to her in the fairy way. WENDY, impressed, bows to him from the bed.)

      PETER. What is your name?

      WENDY (well satisfied). Wendy Moira Angela Darling.What is yours?

      PETER (finding it lamentably brief). Peter Pan.

      WENDY. Is that all?

      PETER (biting his lip). Yes.

      WENDY (politely). I am so sorry.

      PETER. It doesn't matter.

      WENDY. Where do you live?

      PETER. Second to the right and then straight on till morning.

      WENDY. What a funny address!

      PETER.

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