It is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies, andalmost the only thing known for certain is that there are fairieswherever there are children. Long ago children were forbiddenthe Gardens, and at that time there was not a fairy in the place;then the children were admitted, and the fairies came trooping inthat very evening. They can't resist following the children, butyou seldom see them, partly because they live in the daytimebehind the railings, where you are not allowed to go, and alsopartly because they are so cunning. They are not a bit cunningafter Lock-out, but until Lock-out, my word!

When you were a bird you knew the fairies pretty well, and youremember a good deal about them in your babyhood, which it is agreat pity you can't write down, for gradually you forget, and Ihave heard of children who declared that they had never once seena fairy. Very likely if they said this in the KensingtonGardens, they were standing looking at a fairy all the time. Thereason they were cheated was that she pretended to be somethingelse. This is one of their best tricks. They usually pretend tobe flowers, because the court sits in the Fairies' Basin, andthere are so many flowers there, and all along the Baby Walk,that a flower is the thing least likely to attract attention. They dress exactly like flowers, and change with the seasons,putting on white when lilies are in and blue for blue-bells, andso on. They like crocus and hyacinth time best of all, as theyare partial to a bit of colour, but tulips (except white ones,which are the fairy-cradles) they consider garish, and theysometimes put off dressing like tulips for days, so that thebeginning of the tulip weeks is almost the best time to catchthem.

When they think you are not looking they skip along prettylively, but if you look and they fear there is no time to hide,they stand quite still, pretending to be flowers. Then, afteryou have passed without knowing that they were fairies, they rushhome and tell their mothers they have had such an adventure. TheFairy Basin, you remember, is all covered with ground-ivy (fromwhich they make their castor-oil), with flowers growing in ithere and there. Most of them really are flowers, but some ofthem are fairies. You never can be sure of them, but a good planis to walk by looking the other way, and then turn round sharply.Another good plan, which David and I sometimes follow, is tostare them down. After a long time they can't help winking, andthen you know for certain that they are fairies.

There are also numbers of them along the Baby Walk, which is afamous gentle place, as spots frequented by fairies are called.Once twenty-four of them had an extraordinary adventure. Theywere a girls' school out for a walk with the governess, and allwearing hyacinth gowns, when she suddenly put her finger to hermouth, and then they all stood still on an empty bed andpretended to be hyacinths. Unfortunately, what the governess hadheard was two gardeners coming to plant new flowers in that verybed. They were wheeling a handcart with the flowers in it, andwere quite surprised to find the bed occupied. "Pity to liftthem hyacinths," said the one man. "Duke's orders," replied theother, and, having emptied the cart, they dug up the boarding-school and put the poor, terrified things in it in five rows. Ofcourse, neither the governess nor the girls dare let on that theywere fairies, so they were carted far away to a potting-shed, outof which they escaped in the night without their shoes, but therewas a great row about it among the parents, and the school wasruined.

As for their houses, it is no use looking for them, because theyare the exact opposite of our houses. You can see our houses byday but you can't see them by dark. Well, you can see theirhouses by dark, but you can't see them by day, for they are thecolour of night, and I never heard of anyone yet who could seenight in the daytime. This does not mean that they are black,for night has its colours just as day has, but ever so muchbrighter. Their blues and reds and greens are like ours with alight behind them. The palace is entirely built of many-colouredglasses, and is quite the loveliest of all royal residences, butthe queen sometimes complains because the common people will peepin to see what she is doing. They are very inquisitive folk, andpress quite hard against the glass, and that is why their nosesare mostly snubby. The streets are miles long and very twisty,and have paths on each side made of bright worsted. The birdsused to steal the worsted for their nests, but a policeman hasbeen appointed to hold on at the other end.

One of the great differences between the fairies and us is thatthey never do anything useful. When the first baby laughed forthe first time, his laugh broke into a million pieces, and theyall went skipping about. That was the beginning of fairies. They look tremendously busy, you know, as if they had not amoment to spare, but if you were to ask them what they are doing,they could not tell you in the least. They are frightfullyignorant, and everything they do is make-believe. They have apostman, but he never calls except at Christmas with his littlebox, and though they have beautiful schools, nothing is taught inthem; the youngest child being chief person is always electedmistress, and when she has called the roll, they all go out for awalk and never come back. It is a very noticeable thing that, infairy families, the youngest is always chief person, and usuallybecomes a prince or princess; and children remember this, andthink it must be so among humans also, and that is why they areoften made uneasy when they come upon their mother furtivelyputting new frills on the basinette.

You have probably observed that your baby-sister wants to do allsorts of things that your mother and her nurse want her not todo: to stand up at sitting-down time, and to sit down atstanding-up time, for instance, or to wake up when she shouldfall asleep, or to crawl on the floor when she is wearing herbest frock, and so on, and perhaps you put this down tonaughtiness. But it is not; it simply means that she is doing asshe has seen the fairies do; she begins by following their ways,and it takes about two years to get her into the human ways. Herfits of passion, which are awful to behold, and are usuallycalled teething, are no such thing; they are her naturalexasperation, because we don't understand her, though she istalking an intelligible language. She is talking fairy. Thereason mothers and nurses know what her remarks mean, beforeother people know, as that "Guch" means "Give it to me at once,"while "Wa" is "Why do you wear such a funny hat?" is because,mixing so much with babies, they have picked up a little of thefairy language.

Of late David has been thinking back hard about the fairy tongue,with his hands clutching his temples, and he has remembered anumber of their phrases which I shall tell you some day if Idon't forget. He had heard them in the days when he was athrush, and though I suggested to him that perhaps it is reallybird language he is remembering, he says not, for these phrasesare about fun and adventures, and the birds talked of nothing butnest- building. He distinctly remembers that the birds used togo from spot to spot like ladies at shop-windows, looking at thedifferent nests and saying, "Not my colour, my dear," and "Howwould that do with a soft lining?" and "But will it wear?" and"What hideous trimming!" and so on.

The fairies are exquisite dancers, and that is why one of thefirst things the baby does is to sign to you to dance to him andthen to cry when you do it. They hold their great balls in theopen air, in what is called a fairy-ring. For weeks afterwardyou can see the ring on the grass. It is not there when theybegin, but they make it by waltzing round and round. Sometimesyou will find mushrooms inside the ring, and these are fairychairs that the servants have forgotten to clear away. Thechairs and the rings are the only tell-tale marks these littlepeople leave behind them, and they would remove even these werethey not so fond of dancing that they toe it till the very momentof the opening of the gates. David and I once found a fairy-ringquite warm.

But there is also a way of finding out about the ball before ittakes place. You know the boards which tell at what time theGardens are to close to-day. Well, these tricky fairiessometimes slyly change the board on a ball night, so that it saysthe Gardens are to close at six-thirty for instance, instead ofat seven. This enables them to get begun half an hour earlier.

If on such a night we could remain behind in the Gardens, as thefamous Maimie Mannering did, we might see delicious sights,hundreds of lovely fairies hastening to the ball, the marriedones wearing their wedding-rings round their waists, thegentlemen, all in uniform, holding up the ladies' trains, andlinkmen running in front carrying winter cherries, which are thefairy-lanterns, the cloakroom where they put on their silverslippers and get a ticket for their wraps, the flowers streamingup from the Baby Walk to look on, and always welcome because theycan lend a pin, the suppertable, with Queen Mab at the head ofit, and behind her chair the Lord Chamberlain, who carries adandelion on which he blows when Her Majesty wants to know thetime.

The table-cloth varies according to the seasons, and in May it ismade of chestnut-blossom. The ways the fairy-servants do isthis: The men, scores of them, climb up the trees and shake thebranches, and the blossom falls like snow. Then the ladyservants sweep it together by whisking their skirts until it isexactly like a table-cloth, and that is how they get theirtable-cloth.

They have real glasses and real wine of three kinds, namely,blackthorn wine, berberris wine, and cowslip wine, and the Queenpours out, but the bottles are so heavy that she just pretends topour out. There is bread and butter to begin with, of the sizeof a threepenny bit; and cakes to end with, and they are so smallthat they have no crumbs. The fairies sit round on mushrooms,and at first they are very well-behaved and always cough off thetable, and so on, but after a bit they are not so well-behavedand stick their fingers into the butter, which is got from theroots of old trees, and the really horrid ones crawl over thetable- cloth chasing sugar or other delicacies with theirtongues. When the Queen sees them doing this she signs to theservants to wash up and put away, and then everybody adjourns tothe dance, the Queen walking in front while the Lord Chamberlainwalks behind her, carrying two little pots, one of which containsthe juice of wall-flower and the other the juice of Solomon'sSeals. Wall- flower juice is good for reviving dancers who fallto the ground in a fit, and Solomon's Seals juice is for bruises.They bruise very easily and when Peter plays faster and fasterthey foot it till they fall down in fits. For, as you knowwithout my telling you, Peter Pan is the fairies' orchestra. Hesits in the middle of the ring, and they would never dream ofhaving a smart dance nowadays without him. "P. P." is writtenon the corner of the invitation-cards sent out by all really goodfamilies. They are grateful little people, too, and at theprincess's coming-of-age ball (they come of age on their secondbirthday and have a birthday every month) they gave him the wishof his heart.

The way it was done was this. The Queen ordered him to kneel,and then said that for playing so beautifully she would give himthe wish of his heart. Then they all gathered round Peter tohear what was the wish of his heart, but for a long time hehesitated, not being certain what it was himself.

"If I chose to go back to mother," he asked at last, "could yougive me that wish?"

Now this question vexed them, for were he to return to his motherthey should lose his music, so the Queen tilted her nosecontemptuously and said, "Pooh, ask for a much bigger wish thanthat."

"Is that quite a little wish?" he inquired.

"As little as this," the Queen answered, putting her hands neareach other.

"What size is a big wish?" he asked.

She measured it off on her skirt and it was a very handsomelength.

Then Peter reflected and said, "Well, then, I think I shall havetwo little wishes instead of one big one."

Of course, the fairies had to agree, though his cleverness rathershocked them, and he said that his first wish was to go to hismother, but with the right to return to the Gardens if he foundher disappointing. His second wish he would hold in reserve.

They tried to dissuade him, and even put obstacles in the way.

"I can give you the power to fly to her house," the Queen said,"but I can't open the door for you.

"The window I flew out at will be open," Peter said confidently."Mother always keeps it open in the hope that I may fly back."

"How do you know?" they asked, quite surprised, and, really,Peter could not explain how he knew.

"I just do know," he said.

So as he persisted in his wish, they had to grant it. The waythey gave him power to fly was this: They all tickled him on theshoulder, and soon he felt a funny itching in that part and thenup he rose higher and higher and flew away out of the Gardens andover the house-tops.

It was so delicious that instead of flying straight to his oldhome he skimmed away over St. Paul's to the Crystal Palace andback by the river and Regent's Park, and by the time he reachedhis mother's window he had quite made up his mind that his secondwish should be to become a bird.

The window was wide open, just as he knew it would be, and in hefluttered, and there was his mother lying asleep. Peter alightedsoftly on the wooden rail at the foot of the bed and had a goodlook at her. She lay with her head on her hand, and the hollowin the pillow was like a nest lined with her brown wavy hair. Heremembered, though he had long forgotten it, that she always gaveher hair a holiday at night. How sweet the frills of her night-gown were. He was very glad she was such a pretty mother.

But she looked sad, and he knew why she looked sad. One of herarms moved as if it wanted to go round something, and he knewwhat it wanted to go round.

"Oh, mother," said Peter to himself, "if you just knew who issitting on the rail at the foot of the bed."

Very gently he patted the little mound that her feet made, and hecould see by her face that she liked it. He knew he had but tosay "Mother" ever so softly, and she would wake up. They alwayswake up at once if it is you that says their name. Then shewould give such a joyous cry and squeeze him tight. How nicethat would be to him, but oh, how exquisitely delicious it wouldbe to her. That I am afraid is how Peter regarded it. Inreturning to his mother he never doubted that he was giving herthe greatest treat a woman can have. Nothing can be moresplendid, he thought, than to have a little boy of your own. Howproud of him they are; and very right and proper, too.

But why does Peter sit so long on the rail, why does he not tellhis mother that he has come back?

I quite shrink from the truth, which is that he sat there in twominds. Sometimes he looked longingly at his mother, andsometimes he looked longingly at the window. Certainly it wouldbe pleasant to be her boy again, but, on the other hand, whattimes those had been in the Gardens! Was he so sure that hewould enjoy wearing clothes again? He popped off the bed andopened some drawers to have a look at his old garments. Theywere still there, but he could not remember how you put them on. The socks, for instance, were they worn on the hands or on thefeet? He was about to try one of them on his hand, when he had agreat adventure. Perhaps the drawer had creaked; at any rate,his mother woke up, for he heard her say "Peter," as if it wasthe most lovely word in the language. He remained sitting on thefloor and held his breath, wondering how she knew that he hadcome back. If she said "Peter" again, he meant to cry "Mother"and run to her. But she spoke no more, she made little moansonly, and when next he peeped at her she was once more asleep,with tears on her face.

It made Peter very miserable, and what do you think was the firstthing he did? Sitting on the rail at the foot of the bed, heplayed a beautiful lullaby to his mother on his pipe. He hadmade it up himself out of the way she said "Peter," and he neverstopped playing until she looked happy.

He thought this so clever of him that he could scarcely resistwakening her to hear her say, "Oh, Peter, how exquisitely youplay." However, as she now seemed comfortable, he again castlooks at the window. You must not think that he meditated flyingaway and never coming back. He had quite decided to be hismother's boy, but hesitated about beginning to-night. It was thesecond wish which troubled him. He no longer meant to make it awish to be a bird, but not to ask for a second wish seemedwasteful, and, of course, he could not ask for it withoutreturning to the fairies. Also, if he put off asking for hiswish too long it might go bad. He asked himself if he had notbeen hardhearted to fly away without saying good-bye to Solomon. "I should like awfully to sail in my boat just once more," hesaid wistfully to his sleeping mother. He quite argued with heras if she could hear him. "It would be so splendid to tell thebirds of this adventure," he said coaxingly. "I promise to comeback," he said solemnly and meant it, too.

And in the end, you know, he flew away. Twice he came back fromthe window, wanting to kiss his mother, but he feared the delightof it might waken her, so at last he played her a lovely kiss onhis pipe, and then he flew back to the Gardens.

Many nights and even months passed before he asked the fairiesfor his second wish; and I am not sure that I quite know why hedelayed so long. One reason was that he had so many good-byes tosay, not only to his particular friends, but to a hundredfavourite spots. Then he had his last sail, and his very lastsail, and his last sail of all, and so on. Again, a number offarewell feasts were given in his honour; and another comfortablereason was that, after all, there was no hurry, for his motherwould never weary of waiting for him. This last reasondispleased old Solomon, for it was an encouragement to the birdsto procrastinate. Solomon had several excellent mottoes forkeeping them at their work, such as "Never put off laying to-day,because you can lay to-morrow," and "In this world there are nosecond chances," and yet here was Peter gaily putting off andnone the worse for it. The birds pointed this out to each other,and fell into lazy habits.

But, mind you, though Peter was so slow in going back to hismother, he was quite decided to go back. The best proof of thiswas his caution with the fairies. They were most anxious that heshould remain in the Gardens to play to them, and to bring thisto pass they tried to trick him into making such a remark as "Iwish the grass was not so wet," and some of them danced out oftime in the hope that he might cry, "I do wish you would keeptime!" Then they would have said that this was his second wish. But he smoked their design, and though on occasions he began, "Iwish--" he always stopped in time. So when at last he said tothem bravely, "I wish now to go back to mother for ever andalways," they had to tickle his shoulders and let him go.

He went in a hurry in the end because he had dreamt that hismother was crying, and he knew what was the great thing she criedfor, and that a hug from her splendid Peter would quickly makeher to smile. Oh, he felt sure of it, and so eager was he to benestling in her arms that this time he flew straight to thewindow, which was always to be open for him.

But the window was closed, and there were iron bars on it, andpeering inside he saw his mother sleeping peacefully with her armround another little boy.

Peter called, "Mother! mother!" but she heard him not; in vain hebeat his little limbs against the iron bars. He had to fly back,sobbing, to the Gardens, and he never saw his dear again. What aglorious boy he had meant to be to her. Ah, Peter, we who havemade the great mistake, how differently we should all act at thesecond chance. But Solomon was right; there is no second chance,not for most of us. When we reach the window it is Lock-outTime. The iron bars are up for life.