Peter did it both slowly and quickly. I ve got it now, Wendy! cried
John, but soon he found he had not. Not one of them could fly an inch,
though even Michael was in words of two syllables, and Peter did not
know A from Z.
Of course Peter had been trifling with them, for no one can fly unless
the fairy dust has been blown on him. Fortunately, as we have
mentioned, one of his hands was messy with it, and he blew some on each
of them, with the most superb results.
Now just wiggle your shoulders this way, he said, and let go.
They were all on their beds, and gallant Michael let go first. He did
not quite mean to let go, but he did it, and immediately he was borne
across the room.
I flewed! he screamed while still in mid-air.
John let go and met Wendy near the bathroom.
Oh, lovely!
Oh, ripping!
Look at me!
Look at me!
Look at me!
They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a
little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling, and there is
almost nothing so delicious as that. Peter gave Wendy a hand at first,
but had to desist, Tink was so indignant.
Up and down they went, and round and round. Heavenly was Wendy s word.
I say, cried John, why shouldn t we all go out?
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