When the boys returned in their pajamas, they all sang and danced.
Soon their dancing turned into a noisy pillow fight.
Wendy quieted them and told them it was time for a good-night story.
She would tell them the story they loved best, but it was a story that Peter hated.
Usually when she told this story, Peter would put his hands over his ears or leave the room.
But tonight he remained on his stool.
This story was closest to Wendy's heart, and it began like this:
"Once upon a time, there was a man called Mr. Darling and he lived with a woman called Mrs. Darling."
"I knew them," John interrupted.
"I think I knew them too," Michael joined in.
"They lived in a big house in London," Wendy continued, "and had three darling children.
The children had a faithful nanny called Nana.
But one evening, Mr. Darling was angry with Nana and chained her up in the yard.
So the three children flew away."
"This is a really good story," said Nibs.
"They flew away to Neverland where the lost children live," continued Wendy.
"That's us!" cried the Lost Boys, excited.
"And was one of the lost children called Tootles?" asked Tootles, who already knew the story well.
"Yes," replied Wendy. "But the parents were very sad that their children had flown away.
And they visited the nursery every night waiting for their children to return."
"This is a sad story. I don't see how it can have a happy ending," said Nibs, forgetting what followed.
"Don't worry," said Wendy.
"It turns out all right at the end because the children knew their mother would always leave the window open for them to fly back home.
Mothers are loyal like that. And because the children knew this, they stayed away for a long time and had fun."
"Did they ever go back home to their parents?" asked the boys.
This was the part of the story that Peter really hated.
"Yes. One day, they decided to fly back to the open nursery window," Wendy said.
"Their mother and father greeted them with much love.
They didn't even scold them for running away.
And the whole family lived happily ever after."
That was the story and everyone was very pleased with its ending—except for Peter.
He hated grown-ups. He had his own story to tell about mothers.
"Wendy, you are wrong about mothers," he said.
And the boys gathered around him to hear his story—one that he had never told before.
"Long ago," he told them, "I thought—like you, Wendy—that my mother would always keep the window open for me.
So I stayed away for many moons and suns.
Then I flew back, but the window was locked.
My mother had forgotten about me.
And there was another little boy sleeping in my bed."
This tale scared all the boys, especially John and Michael, who had been listening closely.
The Lost Boys had been away from their mothers for a long time and so knew how to live without them.
But John and Michael didn't know how.
"Wendy, let's go home," they both cried.
Wendy put her arms around them and thought about their request for a moment.
"Yes," she said. "Maybe it is time to go home to our parents."
The Lost Boys were shocked by this quick decision.
"Tonight?" they asked, confused.
"Yes, at once," Wendy replied.
Suddenly an image of her mother crying in the empty nursery came to her mind.
Peter, of course, refused to show his feelings to the group.
Though he cared very much, he said coolly to Wendy, "If you wish, I'll make the necessary arrangements."
But, in his heart of hearts, he wanted to cry.