hdrawn.

'How is she?' inquired Peter.

'Tut, tut, tut,' said Slightly, 'this has cured her.'

'I am glad,' Peter cried.

'I will call again in the evening,' Slightly said; 'give her beef tea
out of a cup with a spout to it'; but after he had returned the hat to
John he blew big breaths, which was his habit on escaping from a
difficulty.

In the meantime the wood had been alive with the sound of axes; almost
everything needed for a cosy dwelling already lay at Wendy's feet.

'If only we knew,' said one, 'the kind of house she likes best.'

'Peter,' shouted another, 'she is moving in her sleep.'

'Her mouth opens,' cried a third, looking respectfully into it. 'Oh,
lovely!'

'Perhaps she is going to sing in her sleep,' said Peter. 'Wendy, sing
the kind of house you would like to have.'

Immediately, without opening her eyes, Wendy began to sing:

'I wish I had a pretty house,
The littlest ever seen,
With funny little red walls
And roof of mossy green.'

They gurgled with joy at this, for by the greatest good luck the
branches they had brought were sticky with red sap, and all the ground
was carpeted with moss. As they rattled up the little house they broke
into song themselves:

'We've built the little walls and roof
And made a lovely door,
So tell us, mother Wendy,
What are you wanting more?'

To this she answered rather greedily:

'Oh, really next I think I'll have
Gay windows all about,
With roses peeping in, you know,
And babies peeping out.'

With a blow of their fists they made windows, and large yellow leaves
were the blinds. But roses----?

'Roses,' cried Peter sternly.

Quickly they made-believe to grow the loveliest roses up the walls.

Babies?

To prevent Peter ordering babies they hurried into song again:

'We've made the roses peeping out,
The babes are at the door,
We cannot make ourselves, you know,
'Cos we've been made before.'

Peter, seeing this to be a good idea, at once pretended that it was his
own. The house was quite beautiful, and no doubt Wendy was very cosy
within, though, of course, they could no longer see her. Peter strode up
and down, ordering finishing touches. Nothing escaped his eagle eye.
Just when it seemed absolutely finished,

'There's no knocker on the door,' he said.

They were very ashamed, but Tootles gave the sole of his shoe, and it