` Can it be -- yes -- no -- it is -- the fair Wendy ! ' ` Oh ! ' ` And who are the two noble portly figures accompanying her , now grown to man 's estate ? Can they be John and Michael ? They are ! ' ` Oh ! ' ' `` See , dear brothers , '' says Wendy , pointing upwards , ' `` there is the window still standing open . Ah , now we are rewarded for our sublime faith in a mother 's love . '' So up they flew to their mummy and daddy ; and pen can not describe the happy scene , over which we draw a veil . ' That was the story , and they were as pleased with it as the fair narrator herself . Everything just as it should be , you see . Off we skip like the most heartless things in the world , which is what children are , but so attractive ; and we have an entirely selfish time ; and then when we have need of special attention we nobly return for it , confident that we shall be embraced instead of smacked . So great indeed was their faith in a mother 's love that they felt they could afford to be callous for a bit longer . But there was one there who knew better ; and when Wendy finished he uttered a hollow groan . ` What is it , Peter ? ' she cried , running to him , thinking he was ill . She felt him solicitously , lower down than his chest . ` Where is it , Peter ? ' ` It is n't that kind of pain , ' Peter replied darkly . ` Then what kind is it ? '
` XXXXX , you are wrong about mothers . '
John Michael Peter Wendy children estate mummy scene things window