falls in flop, he spreads out his feathers and pecks them dry, but
Peter could not remember what was the thing to do, and he decided,
rather sulkily, to go to sleep on the weeping beech in the Baby Walk.

At first he found some difficulty in balancing himself on a branch,
but presently he remembered the way, and fell asleep. He awoke long
before morning, shivering, and saying to himself, "I never was out in
such a cold night;" he had really been out in colder nights when he
was a bird, but, of course, as everybody knows, what seems a warm
night to a bird is a cold night to a boy in a nightgown. Peter also
felt strangely uncomfortable, as if his head was stuffy, he heard loud
noises that made him look round sharply, though they were really
himself sneezing. There was something he wanted very much, but,
though he knew he wanted it, he could not think what it was. What he
wanted so much was his mother to blow his nose, but that never struck
him, so he decided to appeal to the fairies for enlightenment. They
are reputed to know a good deal.

There were two of them strolling along the Baby Walk, with their arms
round each other's waists, and he hopped down to address them. The
fairies have their tiffs with the birds, but they usually give a civil
answer to a civil question, and he was quite angry when these two ran
away the moment they saw him. Another was lolling on a garden-chair,
reading a postage-stamp which some human had let fall, and when he
heard Peter's voice he popped in alarm behind a tulip.

To Peter's bewilderment he discovered that every fairy he met fled
from him. A band of workmen, who were sawing down a toadstool, rushed
away, leaving their tools behind them. A milkmaid turned her pail
upside down and hid in it. Soon the Gardens were in an uproar.