I complain of the twins . ' ' I complain of Curly . ' ' I complain of Nibs . ' ` Oh dear , oh dear , ' cried Wendy , ` I 'm sure I sometimes think that children are more trouble than they are worth . ' She told them to clear away , and sat down to her work-basket : a heavy load of stockings and every knee with a hole in it as usual . ` Wendy , ' remonstrated Michael , ` I 'm too big for a cradle . ' ' I must have somebody in a cradle , ' she said almost tartly , ` and you are the littlest . A cradle is such a nice homely thing to have about a house . ' While she sewed they played around her ; such a group of happy faces and dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire . It had become a very familiar scene this in the home under the ground , but we are looking on it for the last time . There was a step above , and Wendy , you may be sure , was the first to recognise it . ` Children , I hear your father 's step . He likes you to meet him at the door . ' Above , the redskins crouched before Peter . ` Watch well , braves . I have spoken . ' And then , as so often before , the gay children dragged him from his tree . As so often before , but never again . He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the correct time for Wendy . ` Peter , you just spoil them , you know , ' Wendy simpered .
` Ah , old lady , ' said XXXXX , hanging up his gun .
Michael Nibs Peter Wendy door father fire first home work-basket