Such was his first voyage to the Gardens, and you may gather from the
antiquity of the language that it took place a long time ago. But
Peter never grows any older, and if we could be watching for him under
the bridge to-night (but, of course, we can't), I daresay we should
see him hoisting his night-gown and sailing or paddling toward us in
the Thrush's Nest. When he sails, he sits down, but he stands up to
paddle. I shall tell you presently how he got his paddle.

Long before the time for the opening of the gates comes he steals back
to the island, for people must not see him (he is not so human as all
that), but this gives him hours for play, and he plays exactly as real
children play. At least he thinks so, and it is one of the pathetic
things about him that he often plays quite wrongly.

You see, he had no one to tell him how children really play, for the
fairies were all more or less in hiding until dusk, and so know
nothing, and though the buds pretended that they could tell him a
great deal, when the time for telling came, it was wonderful how
little they really knew. They told him the truth about hide-and-seek,
and he often plays it by himself, but even the ducks on the Round Pond
could not explain to him what it is that makes the pond so fascinating
to boys. Every night the ducks have forgotten all the events of the
day, except the number of pieces of cake thrown to them. They are
gloomy creatures, and say that cake is not what it was in their young
days.

So Peter had to find out many things for himself. He often played
ships at the Round Pond, but his ship was only a hoop which he had
found on the grass. Of course, he had never seen a hoop, and he
wondered what you play at with them, and decided that you play at