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  MRS
D.
: What's the matter, Nana?


  DARLING:
Nothing, Nothing!


  MRS
D.
(examining bowl): George, it's your medicine! (Children
sob.)


  DARLING:
It was only a joke. Much good my wearing myself to the bone, trying to be funny
in this house. (Nana moans and he is savagely polite to her.) Oh, indeed,
you think so do you? You are mighty fine, I suppose! Who has to walk on four
legs! Who has no pockets!


  WENDY
(hugging dog): Father, she's crying!


  DARLING:
Cuddle her! Nobody cuddles me! Oh, dear no, I am only the breadwinner. Why should
I be cuddled? *(Loudly.) Why, why, why?


  MRS
D.
: George, not so loud — the servants will hear you.


  DARLING
(wildly): Let them. Bring them in, bring in the whole world. I never
enter this room but I see her looking at me with the cold eye of disapproval.
And why not? says my wife, why not? say my children. Very well, then, the worm
turns, and I refuse to allow that dog to lord it in my nursery for one hour
longer. (Nana begs to him.) In vain, in vain! The proper place for you
is the yard and there you go to be tied up, this instant. (Sensation —
the children have arms around Nana.)


  MRS
D.
: George, George, remember what I told you — that boy!


  DARLING:
Pooh, pshaw! Am I master in this house or is she? Come along, Come! (He wheedles
"Good dog" &c — she emerges deceived, he seizes her. Exit R. dragging
dog. Agony of children.)


  MRS
D.
: Come, dears, come to by-by. Don't cry. I'm sure father will let Nana
come back in the morning. (She carries Alex to bed and the others get into
theirs)
Wendy, be brave.


  WENDY:
He's chaining Nana up. (Mrs D. lights three night-lights one at top of each
bed — Nana is heard barking.)


  JOHN:
She's awfully unhappy.


  WENDY:
That's not Nana's unhappy bark — that's her bark when she smells danger.


  MRS
D.
: Danger! Are you sure, Wendy?


  WENDY:
Oh yes. (Mrs D. looks out nervously, at window.) Is there anything there,
Mama?


  MRS
D.
: All quite quiet and still. Oh, how I wish I weren't going out to
dinner.


  ALEX
: Can anything harm us, Mummy, after the night-lights are lit?


  MRS
D.
: Nothing, precious. They are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to
guard her children. (She sings lullaby song about night-lights, beginning
at foot of Alex's bed, then when he's asleep kissing him and continuing at John's
bed, then at Wendy's — all are now asleep.)
Dear night-lights that
protect my sleeping babies, burn clear and steadfast tonight. (She steals
to door R. turns out electric light and exits R. closing door.)




(The
room is now dimly lit by night-lights and fire. Pause. Then night-lights go
out one by one, a slight noise of window opening is heard. Suspense. Then TIPPYTOE
darts in. All that enters under this name is a gleam of light, not much larger
than a human finger. It flashes about the room zigzagging hither and thither
in air, then it is standing still there is seen as it were within this light
a tiny figure of a fairy woman. In actual working it is merely a flash-light
that moves about. The little figure is pushed unseen this work to be visible
only when light stands still behind it, but the illusion is that the figure
is always in the light, a living fairy. Having done this, Tippytoe, which name
we shall give to the flame, pops into a vase on cupboard R. upstage. The vase
is now vaguely lighted: no figure is seen. Nana is barking excitedly.




Enter
at window, PETER PAN, an elfish looking boy in woodland garments, picturesquely
ragged. In this scene the lighting must be such that he casts no shadow. A flying
wire is attached to him at present, but in the gloom it is not visible. He is
of extraordinary quick movements as if made of air. He steals forward, cautiously,
on his feet. John moves in sleep. Peter flies for fist time to top of clock
where he sits. He then flies and alights on foot of John's bed. Wendy moves.
Peter flies behind window-curtains. While here the wire is removed from him
— he re-enters, looks about him cautiously.)




  PETER
(in low tones): Tippy-toe! Tippy, where are you? (A musical tinkle
of plaintive little bells is heard in answer. This is Tippytoe's reply in fairy
language, which Peter understands.)
Oh, there! Do come out of that jug.
(Tippy darts out this way and that.) Tippy, do you know where they put
it? (Bells reply.) Which big box? (Bells reply.) This one here?
(Examining drawers L. down stage.) But which drawer? (Bells reply.)
Yes, do show me! (The light darts at a drawer.) Ah! (Peter pulls drawer
open, flings other articles on to floor, seizes his shadow and closes drawer,
unknowingly with Tippy inside it. With great delight he tries to fix on his
shadow to his foot. He fails. He glides to wash-stand, gets soap — returns
to hearth-rug, tries to gum on his shadow to his foot with soap, fails, loses
hope, wits bowed on hearth-rug, sobbing audibly. This wakens Wendy, she sits
up in bed, sees the stranger, gets out of bed and is going to door R. changes
mind and crossing goes to Peter who is still sobbing and ignorant that anyone
has awaked.)


  WENDY:
Boy, why are you crying? (Peter jumps up — not frightened, but with
the politeness of one addressed by a lady, and lifts his cap to her, keeps it
in his hand. She is surprised but pleased by this politeness and curtseys to
him.)


  PETER:
What's your name?


  WENDY:
Wendy Maria Elizabeth Darling. What is your name?


  PETER:
Peter Pan.


  WENDY:
Is that all?


  PETER
(ashamed): Yes.


  WENDY
(kindly): I'm so sorry.


  PETER
(bravely stifling shame): 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
(tartly): No it isn't.


  WENDY:
I mean is that what they put on the letters?


  PETER:
Don't get any letters.


  WENDY:
But your mother gets letters.


  PETER:
Don't have a mother.


  WENDY
(in tragic pity): Oh, Peter!


  PETER
(with a gulp): Doesn't matter.


  WENDY:
No wonder you were crying!


  PETER:
Wasn't crying about that. Was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick
on.


  WENDY
(examining it): It has come off! How awful! Why Peter, you have been
trying to stick it on with soap!


  PETER
(touchily): Well, then?


  WENDY:
It must be sewn on.


  PETER:
What's sew?


  WENDY:
You're dreadfully ignorant.


  PETER
(hotly): No, I'm not.


  WENDY
(in matronly matter): I shall sew it on for you, my little man.


  PETER
(from his soul): Thank you!


  WENDY
(crossing and now very womanly): But we must have a little more light.
(Turns up electric light — brings her housewife.) Sit there. (He
sits in chair and she kneels and taking up one foot, proceeds to sew on his
shadow.)
I daresay it will hurt a little.


  PETER:
I shan't cry. (He winces a little but is brave. She sews — business.)


  WENDY:
There! (Peter jumps about making gleeful sounds, then, seeing shadow doesn't
properly respond.)


  PETER:
Wendy, it won't do anything. (Huskily.) Do you think it's dead?


  WENDY:
I see what's the matter. It's all crinkled from being rolled up. Peter: I shall
iron it! (Gets iron from fire, prepares it in business like manner, irons
shadow — the heat of it on shadow makes Peter wince, but he knits teeth
and endures.)
It looks better now. Move about slowly, Peter. (He
does so, going up stage.)


  PETER:
Wendy, I believe it moved its arm!


  WENDY:
Of course, it would naturally be stiff at first, Peter.


  PETER:
Oh, it's much better. (He has got towards door L. practising it. Here it
is removed, unseen by the audience and the lights are flung so that his real
shadow takes its place. As he comes into view of audience it should look as
like as possible to the same shadow and he pulls it along without moving arms
or head.)
It's quite lively, Wendy, I shall make it go up the wall! (He
does so but makes it stick where floor and wall meet.)
It's stuck!


  WENDY:
Dear, dear shadow, do climb!


  PETER
(backing into middle of room): Won't do it.


  WENDY:
Peter, it might follow mine. (She moves toward wall, with her shadow in front
of his.)
Come along, that's beautiful. Oh how nicely you move, you clever
thing.


  PETER
(despairing): Stuck again! Wendy, pull it up. (She seems to pull shadow
up wall.)
Done it! Look at it! Look! (Dances.) I'm clever! Oh, the
cleverness of me! (He crows like a rooster once — it seems to come
out of him without his knowing.)


    WENDY:
You conceit! Of course I did nothing!


  PETER:
You did a little.


  WENDY:
A little! If I am no use I can at least withdraw. (Bows & with dignity
gets into bed and retires beneath the blankets, head and all.)


  PETER:
Wendy! (He sits on end of bed and cajoles.) Wendy, don't withdraw. I
can't help crowing, Wendy, when I'm very pleased with myself. I don't mean
to do it. It's just as if a rooster wakes up inside me. Wendy, one girl is more
use than twenty boys.


  WENDY
(Looking out, gratified): Do you really think so, Peter?


  PETER
(stoutly): Yes, I do.


  WENDY:
I think it's perfectly sweet of you and I'll get up again. (They sit together
on side of bed, legs dangling.)
I shall give you a kiss, Peter, if you like.


  PETER:
Thank you. (Holds out hand.)


  WENDY
(aghast): Don't you know what a kiss is?


  PETER:
I shall when you give it to me. (Not to hurt his feelings she gives him a
thimble off her finger, he gravely puts it on his finger.)
Now, shall I
give you a kiss?


  WENDY:
If you please. (He gives her button off his clothes.) Peter, I shall
wear it on this chain around my neck. (She puts it on chain. Sorry
for
him.) But oh, Peter, where were you brought up?


  PETER:
I was never brought up.


  WENDY:
How sad.


  PETER:
Doesn't matter. I was born all right, Wendy, in a room like this — long,
long ago. (Fearfully.) Not very long ago. I'm quite young. (Eager.)
Wendy, say I'm quite a little boy — quick!


  WENDY:
Yes, of course — but how old are you?


  PETER:
I don't know — but quite young. Wendy, I flew away!


  WENDY:
Flew!


  PETER:
You see I hadn't been weighed. You know babies can fly until they are weighed.
That is why mothers are so quick to weigh them.


  WENDY:
Yes, I know.


  PETER:
Well, my mother forgot to weigh me.


  WENDY
(indignant): Oh careless, careless! Why did you fly away, Peter?


  PETER
(violently agitated): Because I heard Father and Mother talking about
what I was to be when I became a man. Wendy, I was frightened. I didn't want
to be a man. I want always to be a little boy and have fun. So I flew away,
and I lived a long, long time among the fairies.


  WENDY
(delirious with admiration): Peter! You know fairies!


  PETER:
I have known millions of them.


  WENDY:
Oh! Don't you know them still?


  PETER:
They are nearly all dead now. You see, Wendy, whenever a baby laughs for the
first time, a fairy is born, and so there ought to be one fairy for every boy
and girl.


  WENDY:
Ought to be? Isn't there?


  PETER
(shakes head): You see children know such a lot now. They soon don't
believe in fairies, and every time a child says "I don't believe in fairies"
there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. They just crumple up like that.
(Bending a finger.)


  WENDY:
How tragic!


  PETER:
There's only the one fairy left, now.


  WENDY:
Only one?


  PETER
(restlessly): I can't think where she has gone to. (Calls.) Tippy
— Tippy!


  WENDY
(clutching him): Peter, you don't mean to tell me that there is a fairy
in this room!


  PETER:
She was here. (Suddenly.) Wendy, you believe in fairies, don't you?


  WENDY:
Yes, indeed.


  PETER
(relieved): I'm glad because if she happened to be your fairy —


  WENDY:
Oh, how delicious!


  PETER:
And if you had said you didn't believe in them, she would be lying all crumpled
by this time.


  WENDY:
Oh!


  PETER:
Tippy! You don't hear her, do you?


  WENDY:
No, the only sound I hear is — like a tinkle of bells.


  PETER:
That's Tippy — that's the fairy language. I hear it too! Tippy.


  WENDY:
It seems to come from over there. (Pointing to drawers L. down stage.)


  PETER:
Wendy, I believe I shut her up in the drawer. (He opens drawer — Tippy
darts out and flashes this way and that and ring talking — ie. ringing
bells — in a rage.)
You needn't say that. I'm very sorry, but how
could I know you were in the drawer.


  WENDY:
Oh, Peter, if she would only stand still and let me see her.


  PETER:
She hardly ever stands still. (For a moment Tippy is still and her
figure is seen.)


  WENDY:
I see her! The lovely! (Tippy darts again and disappears.) Where is she
now?


  PETER:
She's behind the basin. (To Tippy, unseen.) Tippy, this lady thinks that
perhaps you are her fairy. (Bells reply.)


  WENDY:
What did she say?


  PETER
(awkwardly): She's not very polite. She says you are a great ugly girl
— and that she's my fairy.


  WENDY:
Oh!


  PETER:
You know, you can't be my fairy, Tippy, because I'm a gentleman and you're
a lady. (Bells reply.) Oh, indeed!


  WENDY:
What did she say?


  PETER:
She said "You silly ass!".


  WENDY:
Oh! Peter: if you don't live with the fairies now, where do you live?


  PETER:
I live with the lost children.


  WENDY
(sitting beside him on same chair at fire — their legs dangle):
Who are they?


  PETER:
They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is
looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days they are sent far
away to the Never Never Land to defray expenses. I'm Captain.


  WENDY:
What fun it must be!


  PETER:
Yes, but we're rather lonely. You see we have no female companionship.


  WENDY:
Are none of the others girls?


  PETER:
Oh no — girls you know are much too clever to fall out.


  WENDY:
Peter, it's perfectly lovely the way you talk about girls. John, there, just
despises us. (Peter rises gravely and kicks John out of bed. John continues
to sleep on floor.)
Peter you wicked! You're not captain here! (Peter
is abject — she relents.)
After all, he hasn't waked, and you meant
to be kind — Peter, you may give me a kiss.


  PETER
(little bitterly): I thought you would want it back. (Offers the thimble.)


  WENDY:
Oh, dear! Peter, I don't mean a kiss — I mean a thimble.


  PETER:
What's that?


  WENDY:
It's like this. (Kisses him.)


  PETER
(stolidly): Now shall I give you a thimble?


  WENDY:
If you please. (He kisses her, pauses, then Tippy darts at Wendy and vanishes.
Wendy jumps up, screaming.)


  PETER:
What is it?


  WENDY:
It was exactly as if somebody was pulling my hair.


  PETER:
That must have been Tippy. Never knew her so naughty. (Bells speak.)
Oh, is that it?


  WENDY:
What does she say?


  PETER:
She says she'll do that to you every time I give you a thimble.


  WENDY:
But, why?


  PETER:
Why, Tippy? (Bells.) She says "You silly ass" again.


  WENDY:
She's very unkind. (Goes further off.) Peter, did you come here to see
me?


  PETER:
I didn't know there was a you. I came to listen at nursery windows.


  WENDY:
Why?


  PETER:
To try to hear stories. I don't know any stories. None of us lost boys know
any stories.


  WENDY:
How perfectly awful!


  PETER:
Do you know why swallows build in houses? It is to listen to the stories. Oh
Wendy, your mother was telling you such a lovely story and I do so want to know
the end. That's what I came here for.


  WENDY:
Which story is it?


  PETER:
The Prince couldn't find the lady who wore the glass slipper.


  WENDY:
That's Cinderella! Peter, he found her, and they were happy, ever after!


  PETER
(immensely relieved): I am glad. (He is going.)


  WENDY:
Where are you going, Peter.


  PETER:
To tell the other boys. They are so frightfully anxious about Cinderella.


  WENDY:
Don't go, Peter. I know such lots and lots of stories.


  PETER
(breathless): Do you! (His hands begin to claw her.)


  WENDY:
The stories I could tell to the boys!


  PETER:
Wendy, come with me and tell them.


  WENDY:
Oh, dear, I can't. Think of Mummy.


  PETER:
You shall! You shall! (Seizes her.)


  WENDY:
Let go, Peter Pan. (He does so dejectedly.) Besides, I can't fly.


  PETER:
It's so easy. Wendy, I'll teach you.


  WENDY:
How lovely to fly! But tho' I learn, mind you, I won't go away with you.


  PETER:
You won't be able to help it — it's so delicious to fly.


  WENDY:
Then I won't learn.


  PETER:
Oh, Wendy, how we should all respect you. You would tuck us in every
night, Wendy. Not one of us has ever been tucked in at night.


  WENDY
(hesitating): Of course, it's awfully fascinating.


  PETER:
Wendy, I have just to rub your shoulders, and then you can fly.


  WENDY:
Oh! Will you teach John and Alexander, also?


  PETER
(indifferent): If you like.


  WENDY:
Mind you, I don't promise to go away with you. I don't think there's the least
chance of my going.


  PETER
(craftily): All right.


  WENDY
(wakening John): John, wake up. There is a boy here who is going to teach
us how to fly.


  JOHN:
Is there? Then I shall get up. (Finds that he is on the floor.) I say,
I am up.


  WENDY:
Alexander, this boy is to teach us to fly. (Nana begins to bark again. Wendy
is conscience-stricken.)
Nana doesn't want us to learn.


  PETER:
Hsh! Someone's coming.


  JOHN:
Out with the light. (He turns it off.) Hide quick!




(Wendy
and Peter exeunt L. John and Alex into bathroom. Enter R. HELEN, a servant,
holding Nana by collar. Nana growling. They remain near door R.)




  HELEN:
There you suspicious brute! They are perfectly safe, aren't they! Every one
of the little angels sound asleep in bed — Listen to their gentle breathing.
(Nana growls.) Now, no more of it, Nana. I warn you if you bark again,
I shall go straight for Master and Missus and bring them home from the party,
and the, oh, won't Master whip you just! (Tippy darts at her leg.)
Oh! Oh! What's that nipping my leg? (Tippy darts at her head.) Oh! Oh!
Come along, you growling brute! (She exits, dragging Nana with her —
the children emerge — the wires are now attached to them and are invisible
in the gloom.)


  ALEX:
What was it nipped Helen?


  PETER:
It had been Tippy.


  JOHN:
Who's Tippy?


  WENDY:
John, she's a fairy!


  JOHN:
Oh, rot, there are no fairies. (Tippy darts at him, he staggers back.)
Who did that? Who hit me here? (Covering his stomach.)


  PETER:
It had been Tippy.


  JOHN
(Tippy darts: staggering again): There it is again.


  WENDY:
John, quick, say you believe in fairies and then she may stop.


  JOHN:
I don't. (Gets another whack.) Yes, I do — I do — (The
persecution stops.)
I say, can you really fly? (Peter flies.) How
splendid!


  WENDY:
Oh, how sweet!


  PETER
(in ecstasy as he flies): I'm sweet, sweet — oh I am sweet!


  JOHN
(trying to fly): How do you do it?


  PETER:
I must rub you, first. (He rubs their shoulders with his.) Now try —
try from the bed.


  ALEX:
Me first!


  JOHN
(pushing Alex down): Me first! (Tries to launch himself into space
— jumps down tamely.)


  PETER
(flying): Just wriggle your shoulders this way and let them go. (Wendy
does as John did — Alex flies a yard.)


  ALEX:
I flewed! (The three jump on to different beds to practice. Amid the exclamations
of delight they begin to be able to fly, at first, awkwardly — then they
get better at it.)


  JOHN
(sailing round): Look at me — look — look!


  ALEX:
Look at me!


  JOHN:
I say, why shouldn't we go out!


  WENDY:
No, no, we mustn't — oh it's heavenly! But we mustn't — that's what
he wants, to takes away over the sea.


  PETER:
There are Pirates!


  JOHN:
Pirates! Let's go at once.


  WENDY:
No, John, no.


  JOHN:
You stay at home — girls are only in the way.


  PETER:
No, they're not.


  JOHN:
You like girls? Oh you muff!


  ALEX:
Muff, muff, muff!


  WENDY:
Peter, it's sweet of you. (He and she fly together — all circle round.)


  PETER:
Tippy, Tippy, come along. (Tippy's light darts about and trembles —
bells ring, plaintively.)
That's Tippy crying!


  WENDY:
Oh!


  PETER:
She says she's crying because I am holding your hand. (Bells again.)
She says she'll come if I let go your hand.




(Wendy
and Peter let go hands. Bell rings gaily.)
She's happy now. (All circle
round with cries of delight. Tippy's light does as they do. Finally all stream
out of window and disappear. Nana has been barking fiercely again. She now bursts
through door R. wrecking it: with broken chain attached to her, rushes to window
and stands with front feet up, looking out. Mrs D. and Darling have rushed in
after her. Darling turns up electric light — all are just in time to see
the last of the children disappear.)




  MRS
D.
(distraught): My children! All gone — all gone!


  DARLING
(equally distressed): Oh, Mother!


  MRS
D.
: They would all have been here if you had left Nana to take care of
them! Oh, why do men interfere in the affairs of the nursery! (She half falls,
leaning on kennel.)


  DARLING
(full of remorse): My fault! My fault! Mea culpa — my fault! Mary,
from this hour, until my children come back Nana and I change places. She becomes
head of the house and I go into the kennel. (He goes into kennel and sits
with head out. Nana comes down and stands looking at him.)






CURTAIN




Here
appears drawing of The Never Land.