Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens | Page 3

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PETER PAN IN KENSINGTON GARDENS By J. M. BARRIE

CONTENTS
Peter Pan The Thrush's Nest The Little House Lock-Out Time

Peter Pan

If you ask your mother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she
was a little girl she will say, "Why, of course, I did, child," and if you
ask her whether he rode on a goat in those days she will say, "What a
foolish question to ask, certainly he did." Then if you ask your
grandmother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a girl,
she also says, "Why, of course, I did, child," but if you ask her whether
he rode on a goat in those days, she says she never heard of his having
a goat. Perhaps she has forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your
name and calls you Mildred, which is your mother's name. Still, she
could hardly forget such an important thing as the goat. Therefore there
was no goat when your grandmother was a little girl. This shows that,
in telling the story of Peter Pan, to begin with the goat (as most people
do) is as silly as to put on your jacket before your vest.
Of course, it also shows that Peter is ever so old, but he is really always
the same age, so that does not matter in the least. His age is one week,
and though he was born so long ago he has never had a birthday, nor is
there the slightest chance of his ever having one. The reason is that he
escaped from being a human when he was seven days' old; he escaped
by the window and flew back to the Kensington Gardens.
If you think he was the only baby who ever wanted to escape, it shows
how completely you have forgotten your own young days. When David
heard this story first he was quite certain that he had never tried to
escape, but I told him to think back hard, pressing his hands to his
temples, and when he had done this hard, and even harder, he distinctly
remembered a youthful desire to return to the tree-tops, and with that
memory came others, as that he had lain in bed planning to escape as
soon as his mother was asleep, and how she had once caught him
half-way up the chimney. All children could have such recollections if
they would press their hands hard to their temples, for, having been
birds before they were human, they are naturally a little wild during the
first few weeks, and very itchy at the shoulders, where their wings used
to be. So David tells me.
I ought to mention here that the following is our way with a story: First,
I tell it to him, and then he tells it to me, the understanding being that it

is quite a different story; and then I retell it with his additions, and so
we go on until no one could say whether it is more his story or mine. In
this story of Peter Pan, for instance, the bald narrative and most of the
moral reflections are mine, though not all, for this boy can be a stern
moralist, but the interesting bits about the ways and customs of babies
in the bird-stage are mostly reminiscences of David's, recalled by
pressing his hands to his temples and thinking hard.
Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars. Standing on
the ledge he could see trees far away, which were doubtless the
Kensington Gardens, and the moment he saw them he entirely forgot
that he was now a little boy in a nightgown, and away he flew,