Yes, Peter.
No.
To show that her departure would leave him unmoved, he skipped up and
down the room, playing gaily on his heartless pipes. She had to run
about after him, though it was rather undignified.
To find your mother, she coaxed.
Now, if Peter had ever quite had a mother, he no longer missed her. He
could do very well without one. He had thought them out, and remembered
only their bad points.
No, no, he told Wendy decisively; perhaps she would say I was old,
and I just want always to be a little boy and to have fun.
But, Peter
No.
And so the others had to be told.
Peter isn t coming.
Peter not coming! They gazed blankly at him, their sticks over their
backs, and on each stick a bundle. Their first thought was that if
Peter was not going he had probably changed his mind about letting them
go.
But he was far too proud for that. 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. After all, their faces said,
were they not noodles to want to go?
Now then, cried Peter, no fuss, no blubbering; good-bye, Wendy; and
he held out his hand cheerily, quite as if they must really go now, for
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