15 Peter Pan - Read By Stephanie Poppins

Peter Pan, written by J.M. Barrie, is a classic children's novel first published in the early 20th century. The story revolves around the beloved character Peter Pan and follows his adventures in the fantastical Neverland, along with a young girl named Wendy Darling and her brothers, John and Michael.

In this episode, Peter and Wendy play Happy Families.

This story is adapted for radio by Stephanie Poppins at Neworld Books.

Transcript

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to podcast that offers you a calm and relaxing transition into a great night's sleep.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now,

And nowhere you need to go.

Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you and let all the worries of the day drift away.

This is your time and your space.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

There is nothing you need to be doing now,

And nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Chapter 9 continued.

There were two large white eggs and Peter lifted them up and reflected.

The bird covered her face with her wings so as not to see the last of them,

But she could not help peeping between her feathers.

I forget whether I told you there was a stave on the rock,

Driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark the site of buried treasure.

The children had discovered the glittering hoard,

And when in mischievous mood used to fling showers of diamonds,

Pearls,

And pieces of eight to the gulls,

Who pounced upon them for food and then flew away,

Raging at the scurvy trick that had been played upon them.

The stave was still there,

And on it Starkey had hung his hat,

A deep,

Tarpaulin,

Watertight,

With a broad brim.

Peter put the eggs into this hat and set it onto the lagoon.

It floated beautifully.

The netherbird saw at once what he was up to and screamed her admiration,

And alas,

Peter crowed his agreement with her.

Then he got into the nest,

Reared the stave in it as a mast,

And hung up his shirt for a sail.

At the same moment,

The birds fluttered down upon the hat and sat snugly on her eggs.

She drifted in one direction,

And Peter was borne off in another,

Both cheering at the same time.

Great were the rejoicings when Peter reached the home under the ground,

Almost as soon as Wendy,

Who had been carried hither and thither by the kite.

Every boy had adventures to tell,

But perhaps the biggest of all was that they were several hours late for bed.

This so inflated them they did various dodgy things to get staying up still longer,

Such as demanding bandages.

But Wendy,

Though glorying in having them all home again,

Safe and sound,

Was scandalised by the lateness of the hour and cried,

To bed,

To bed,

In a voice that had to be obeyed.

Next day,

However,

She was awfully tender and gave out bandages to everyone,

And they played till bedtime,

At limping about and carrying their arms in slings.

CHAPTER TEN THE HAPPY HOME One important result of the brush on the lagoon was that it made the Redskins their friends.

Peter had saved Tiger Lily from a dreadful fate,

And now there was nothing she and her Braves would not do for him.

At night they sat above ground keeping watch over their home,

Awaiting the big attack by the pirates,

Which obviously could not be much longer delayed.

Even by day they hung about,

Smoking the pipe of peace,

And looking almost as if they wanted titbits to eat.

They called Peter the Great White Father,

Prostrating themselves before him,

And he liked this tremendously,

So that it was not really too good for him.

The Great White Father,

He would say to them in a very lordly manner,

As they growled at his feet.

Me,

Tiger Lily?

Tiger Lily would reply,

Peter Pan saved me,

His very nice friend,

Me nor let pirates hurt him.

She was far too pretty to cringe in this way,

But Peter thought it his due,

And he would answer condescendingly,

It's good,

Peter Pan has spoken.

That meant they must now shut up,

And they accepted it humbly in that spirit,

But they were by no means so respectful to the other boys,

They looked at those as just ordinary Braves.

How do,

They said to them,

And things like that.

What annoyed the boys was that Peter seemed to think this was all right.

Secretly,

Wendy sympathised with them a little,

But she was far too loyal a housewife to listen to any complaints against Father.

Father knows best,

She always said.

Her private opinion was that the Redskins should not call her a squaw.

We have now reached the evening that was to be known among them as the Night of Nights.

The day,

As if quietly gathering its forces,

Had been almost uneventful and now the Redskins in their blankets were at their posts above.

The children below were having their evening meal.

Peter had gone out to get the time.

The way you got the time on the island was to find the crocodile and stay near him until the clock struck.

The meal happened to be a make-believe tea,

And the children sat round the board guzzling in their greed,

And really what with all the chatter and recriminations,

The noise,

As Wendy said,

Was positively deafening.

To be sure she did not mind noise,

But she simply would not have them grabbing things and then excusing themselves by saying that tootles had pushed their elbow.

There was a fixed rule they must never hit back at meals.

Silence,

Cried Wendy,

When for the twentieth time she told them they were not all to speak at once.

Is your calabash empty slightly,

Darling?

Not quite empty,

Mummy,

Slightly said,

After looking into an imaginary mug.

He hasn't even been able to drink his milk,

Nibs interposed,

Then slightly seized his chance.

I complain of Nibs,

He cried promptly.

John,

However,

Held up his hand first.

Well,

John,

May I sit in Peter's chair,

As he's not here?

Sit in father's chair,

John,

Wendy was scandalised,

Certainly not.

He's not really our father,

John answered,

He didn't even know how a father does until I showed him.

We complain of John,

Cried the twins.

Tootles held up his hand.

He was so much the humblest of them.

He was the only humble one,

Indeed,

That Wendy was especially gentle with him.

I don't suppose,

He said diffidently,

That I could be father.

No,

Tootles,

Suddenly there was a step above,

And Wendy was the first to recognise it.

Children,

I can hear your father's steps.

He likes you to meet him at the door.

Above,

The redskins crouched before Peter.

Well,

Braves,

I have spoken.

He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the correct time for Wendy.

Peter,

You just spoil them,

You know,

Wendy simpered.

Then Wendy told the boys they could dance,

But they must put on their nighties first.

Ah,

Old lady,

Peter said aside to Wendy,

Warming himself by the fire,

And looking down at her as she sat turning a heel.

There's nothing more pleasant of an evening for you and me,

When the day's toil is over,

Than to rest by the fire with the little ones nearby.

It is sweet,

Peter,

Isn't it?

Said Wendy,

Frightfully gratified.

Peter,

I think Curly has your nose.

Michael takes after you.

Dear Peter,

Said Wendy,

With such a large family,

I have now passed my best,

But you don't want to change me,

Do you?

No,

Wendy.

Certainly Peter Pan did not want to change,

But he looked at Wendy uncomfortably,

Blinking like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.

Peter,

What is it?

Said Wendy.

I was just thinking,

He said a little scared.

This is only make-believe,

Isn't it,

That I'm their father?

Oh,

Yes,

Said Wendy primly.

You see,

It would make me seem so old to be their real father.

But they are ours,

Peter,

Yours and mine.

But not really,

Wendy,

He added anxiously.

Not if you don't wish it.

Peter,

What are your exact feelings for me?

Those of a devoted son,

Wendy.

I thought so,

She said.

You're so queer,

He said,

Puzzled.

Tiger Lily's just the same.

There's something she wants me to be,

But she says it's not my mother.

No,

Indeed it is not,

Wendy replied with frightful emphasis.

Now we know why she was prejudiced against the Redskins.

Then what is it?

It isn't for a lady to tell.

Very well,

Said Peter,

A little nettled.

Perhaps Tinkerbell will tell me.

Oh,

Yes,

Tinkerbell will tell you,

Wendy retorted.

She is an abandoned little creature.

Here,

Tinkerbell,

Who was in her boudoir eavesdropping,

Squeaked out something impudent.

She says she glories in being abandoned,

Peter interpreted.

Perhaps Tink wants to be my mother.

You silly-ess,

Cried Tinkerbell in a passion.

I almost agree with her,

Wendy snapped.

If she had known,

She would not have snapped.

But none of them knew.

Perhaps it was best not to know.

Their ignorance gave them one more glad hour,

And as it was to be their last hour on the island,

Let us rejoice there were 60 glad minutes in it.

They sang and danced in their nightgowns.

A deliciously creepy song it was,

Too,

In which they pretended to be frightened of their own shadows.

Then the stories they told,

Before it was time for Wendy's goodnight story.

And at last they all got to bed,

For Wendy's story,

The story they loved best,

Set them off to sleep,

As Peter,

Remaining on his stall,

Thought about what was to come.