I have some exciting news for you starting. Now you can listen to tales up associates that are older than six months completely ad free exclusively on Stitcher premium. We're always looking for ways to improve the listener experience. We found an amazing partner in Stitcher to bring you episodes. Ad free, six months after they're released. Again, this will only affect up older than six months. Nothing else will change will still be releasing new tales episodes wherever you listen to podcasts for a free month trial go to Stitcher premium dot com slash podcast and use promo code podcast that's Stitcher, premium dot com slash podcast and use promo code podcast. the baby's shoulders edged. He stared up at the mobile spinning over his head even in the dark nursery, this seven day old child was not frightened by his parents absence. He wasn't even particularly tired. In fact, he had never been so awake, his eyes, wandered the room. Eventually they landed on the window on the other end of the room. It was closed and latched, but there were no bars. The wind rushed faintly against it. Suddenly he was seized with curiosity, what was outside that window. Fumbling with his tiny hands. He gripped the sides of his crib and pulled to his own amazement. He rose to a full standing position. He wobbled there for a moment, not daring to let his hands off the crib. His head felt heavy on his shoulders and his tiny knees shook dangerously under the weight of his body. But a moment later, he righted himself and climbed over the edge of his crib. He slipped over the edge and landed on his back. But the landing was surprisingly soft and he rolled onto his hands and knees immediately. He walked unsteadily toward the window with renewed vigor. The latch wasn't complicated, a fastener held together by a single golden hook, the chill passed through him as he approached it, but he shook it off. He grasped the clasp with both hands and lifted the latch. The window opened revealing the streets of London beneath him. It was all gray buildings and smog, but even that couldn't shake the child's feeling of wonder and often the distance. He saw what he was looking for even though he didn't have a word for it yet trees, dozens of them on the very edge of the horizon, the itching at his shoulders intensified. Then in a flash, he realized what they felt like wings. He was not a boy at all, but a bird. The young Peter Pan took a step off the window sill and flew out into the night sky. I'm Vanessa Richardson. You're listening to tales today were exploring j. m. berries. I version of his icon ick character Peter Pan the boy who wouldn't grow up the tails on this podcast are dark. Sometimes scary and full of adult themes. Peter Pan may be best known as a roguish hero of children's stories, but the original story has a dark edge. This story involves parental neglect, attempted murder and two cases of infanticide. Please exercise caution for children under thirteen. If you want to hear more tales, you can find all of par, casts podcasts, wherever you listen to podcasts. Many of you have asked to how you can help the show. If you enjoy tales the best way to help us is to leave a five star review wherever you listen. While Peter Pan is best known for his adventures with Wendy in the lost boys, his original iterating is vastly different from the boy who lived in Neverland in nineteen. Oh, two Scottish writer j m berry published a short story collection entitled the little white bird amongst these stories is a series of chapters that would come to be known as Peter Pan in Kensington gardens. They tell the story of a child who flew away from his parents as a baby determined to never grow up two years later berry took the titular character and wrote a whole play around him. One of the working titles for this play was Peter Pan or the boy who hated mothers. According to some accounts. His producer hated this title so much that he pressured buried to change it to Peter Pan or the boy who wouldn't grow up. Today's episode is a prelude of sorts. Here were primarily focusing on Peter Pan before he went to Neverland. Although Peter Pan in this story is just as carefree as the version. We all know Peter Pan in Kensington gardens has some slightly darker themes as we will see in all of berry stories, being young forever is fun, but there is a price for this kind of freedom to put it simply abandoning the chance of ever growing up has certain inevitable and heartbreaking consequences today will follow Peter pans adventures throughout London's historic park and explore why Berry's original title was so fitting. Peter sailed through the air nightgown fluttering in the breeze o'memory of the nursery was gone. He was now bird flying through the night sky, the city of London rolled beneath him, spots of yellow light, coloring the darkness. The trees grew nearer unfolding into the full scope of Hyde Park. Peter's young is widened as he approached. He had never seen such a beautiful sight as all those trees. Peter landed softly on the grass and is small legs immediately gave way under him. He settled onto his back staring at the night sky. It was passed lockout time. So the gardens were completely deserted or perhaps not completely. Deserted. Peter looked around. He thought he saw something out of the corner of his eyes, but it vanished when he looked at it and then he saw it a tiny figure, no more than a few inches tall, a fairy Peter thought to himself. He didn't know how he knew, but he was absolutely certain children could always recognize varies. As his is adjusted to the moonlight he realized they were all over going about their ferry tasks. Some of them were gathering nuts and fallen acorns from the ground. He saw a pair of them filling tiny pales with water. They were all utterly wrapped up in their tasks not paying the child. Any mind. Peter had been to swept up in the joy of discovery to notice his own parched throat. But now that he saw the ferries drawing water, he realized just how thirsty he was. He took off again flying toward the pond, the ferries gathered around. He landed just like a bird would in a bird bath fluttering daintily to a halt, a handful of pigeons scattered as he neared the fountain Peter bent over dipped his nose into the water and inhaled. The child spluttered in astonishment as the water went up his nose, then back out so and confused Peter fluttered off to a nearby bench and tried to go to sleep. He woke before dawn, shivering, badly, what do I do? The child thought to himself a bird should be able to peck. It's betters dry. So why can't I? He decided to ask the fairies for help. He flew over to a group of workers sawing away at a toad stool. When they saw the child descending on them, they dropped their tools and zipped off into the night. Confused. Peter tried again approaching a ferry milkmaid. He opened his mouth and tried to shape the right words. Excuse me. He began delighting himself with how easy he found speech. The milkmaid shrieked up ended her pale and hid underneath it. Peter puzzled over the upturned pale for a minute before moving on. Soon. The alarm went out a human. A human is here during lockout time, Peter was more confused than ever human where he turned to the speaker to see a regiment of ferry Lancers marching toward him. Brandishing sharp, Holly leaves as spears. Peter was not afraid of them and flew over in their direction. The ranks of fairies parted before him jabbing at him defensively, one of the leaves caught him in the ankle pricking him and drawing out a bright red bead of blood Peter took to the sky again and circled above the ferries. Why were all the creatures? So afraid of him. And then he remembered the birds had scattered before him when he landed by the fountain. Why was he being shunned by his own kind feeling? So very alone Peter began to weep. The tears fell all around the ferry Lancers exploding, like bombs of water, the ferry scattered hiding amongst the grass. But Peter paid them no mind. He was already drifting off toward the serpentine lake. He landed on an island in the middle of the serpentine that was dense with birds. He started searching for a proper nest to settle down for the night when a voice pierced. The silence. Who are you. He turned a massive black crow emerged from an old oak. Peter did not know his last name. So he introduced himself as Peter. The bird. I am Solomon car despite never meeting before. Peter knew that this was an important bird. His jet black eyes had a depth Peter had never seen before. It was like looking into a night sky. Perhaps this bird was wise enough to answer Peter's burning question. Why do ferries and other birds flee from me Solomon explain to him why the parks inhabitants fled before him. He was a human, not a bird. Peter was reticent insisting that he was a bird, not a child look at your nightgown. If you don't believe me. Peter looked at the nightgown then at the birds surrounding him, it's true. None of them were any such garment, how many of your toes are thumbs and not clause asked Solomon Peter realized much to his horror that he had no claws for gripping. No wonder. It had been so hard to perch on the branch. And here Solomon landed his final blow. Ruffle your feathers. He commanded Peter tried. He tried so hard that several times he almost fell off of his branch, but the only thing that ruffled was his still damp nightgown and then it came to him in a flash. His mother who had put him to bed mere hours ago. She was not a bird mother. She was a human mother. Peter hung his head dejectedly. He had been living ally the whole night. Perhaps I should go back to my mother. Solomon nodded, perhaps you should. Peter turned and made to step off the branch, but hesitated but doubt, pricked the back of his mind. And he turned back to the old crow, I suppose I can still fly. The expressions of birds are exceptionally hard to read, but Peter could see Solomon's look soften before he responded, no, you will never be able to fly again, not even on windy days and he explained to Peter what had just happened by learning his true nature. Peter had lost faith in his ability to fly and could no longer leave the island. But Solomon promise to teach Peter how to live like a bird despite this. Then I shall be exactly a human Peter asked. No, nor exactly a bird. No, what shall I be. Solomon thought for a moment, you will be a betwixt and between. As Solomon caw began to explain to Peter how to be a bird Peter cast a glance toward his former home. What is mother leave the window open for him or was Solomon right? And he would spend the rest of his life on this island living with the birds. Our story will continue in a moment after a brief message. Have you ever tried Bomba socks? You can't tell, but I'm wearing a pair of them right now and they're the most comfortable socks in the history of feet. I kid you not bombo socks are amazing. So amazing in fact that I actually do my laundry more frequently to make sure I always have clean Bomba socks. I don't even like wearing my other socks anymore. Baba's spent two years of research and development and multiple improvements in design to make their socks. 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And if you decide to get one of their to carry on sizes, it can charge your cellphone or anything that's powered by a USB cord. It came in handy for me earlier this summer I got to the gate and my flight was delayed. My phone was dead. Every outlet was being used by other passengers. Luckily I had my away carry on suitcase and could charge my phone anyway for twenty dollars off a suitcase, visit away, travel dot com. Slash tales and use promo code tales during checkout. That's a way travel dot com. Slash tales and promo code tales for twenty dollars office suitcase. And now back to tails. Peter lived a unique life among the birds. He was regarded as something of an oddity, though he fed just like a bird. He could not leave the island or fly. The birds would gather to watch him bay. Their play with the newly hatched chicks Peter's half human voice did not match the tone of the birds. So he made himself an instrument to fit in. He gathered reads from the Bank and wove them into a pipe. He lived mostly on crumbs of bread brought to him from across the water. He didn't wear his nightgown anymore. After all close were for humans, and he was only part human betwixt and between Peter's main job on the island was helping birds build their nests. He was as happy as he could be, but something bothered him. Whenever he sat in played his pipe by the water, he found himself thinking sad thoughts, though you loved being a bird. He longed to play with other boys and girls in the park. He considered swimming, but the serpentine was too rough for a boy of Peter stature to learn to swim in the ducks tried to teach him to swim. But his body was the wrong shape for swimming, like a duck when he tried to tread water like they do, he sank almost instantly and needed to be fished out. One day Peter was weaving and nest by the water when something crashed down onto the island beside him, startled, he went to see what it was. It was a large flat bird with a tale that was far too thin to be of any use. The birds explained to him that it was a kite, and they sometimes landed on this island when they escaped from their human owners, the birds even demonstrated how to fly the kite gripping the string in their beaks and soaring overhead. Suddenly, Peter had an idea. He called the birds down to him and explained his plan after some dubious looks the birds consented to help this strange betwixt and between get across the water. I, the two birds gripped the string at the base of the kite. Then Peter gripped the string below them. Perhaps there was a way for him to fly after all. The birds took off and soared into the air Peter clung for dear life to the string which held surprisingly well, the bird strained with the effort. Once the kite caught the wind, the birds let go letting the kite carry the little boy back toward the gardens. Good luck little half-and-half. One of them called to him as they disappeared into the sky above. Peter's heart soared. This was the freedom he'd hoped for, but something wasn't right. The green of the gardens which had seemed so close before was receding. He glanced up at the kite. It was being torn this way and that by the wind now inching back toward the island in a zigzag pattern, Peter put his weight into the other direction hoping to coax the stubborn paper against the wind. And with that, the spine of the kite snapped into a dozen pieces. His makeshift sale shredded Peter plummeted toward the water. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the cold impact. Peter was shocked when he bounced off something soft and feathery allowed squawk told him that he had landed on a swan scrambling, furiously. Peter grabbed onto the swans tail stopping. Himself before touching the water. The swans were never particularly fond of Peter. They were too proud to think of him as one of their own, but they carried him back to the island and deposited him on the shore. He was shaking all over from the near death experience. Solomon call watched him pityingly from a nearby tree. The birds will not help you. Again, he told Peter, not without sympathy. We do not wish to help you kill yourself in some Matt attempt to cross the water. But this did not diminish Peter's resolve. He could no longer be content building nests and feeding baby birds. He'd gotten almost halfway today. Surely he would be able to go further next time. Another opportunity presented itself that very night, a paper boat folded out of a five pound note washed ashore as one of Solomon. 'cause sentinels was on, watch the sentinel dutifully carried the note to Solomon for inspection Solomon caw despite being a wise and learned bird had no idea what to make of the strange paper. He consulted with his assistance, but none of them knew some thought it was a message from a strange person and others thought it was a ferryboat that had become unmortgaged. Somehow, Peter was silent during this time mind spinning when his memory of his human parents had returned. He also remembered what money was. He remembered glimpsing his father counting coins. So he knew how much the five pound note was worth. Peter had just thought of a way to get the birds to help him again. He took Solomon cau- aside and explain to him the value of the currency in exchange for Solomon's assistance. Peter would give him a whole pound neither Peter nor Solomon knew that cutting up a pound note made it completely worthless. This promise one Solomon caw over and he called a meeting of thrashes. The best nest builders on the island. My friends, the elderly bird began. You have been lining your nest with mud for years to keep your eggs warm and dry. The Thrush is knotted. This was true and a true indication of their cleverness as architects. Our young friend Peter wants very much to cross the serpentine. He has proposed, you help him build a boat. The throw thrashes exchanged looks. They were a proud group and would not work for free, especially for such an undertaking as building an extra large nest for Peter quite so said, Solomon, Peter will pay you six Pence day. The Thrush has leapt at the opportunity. None of them stopped to think what they would do with sixpence once they had it, they just wanted the money after all. It was an exorbitant wage to a bird every night after a hard day of work, the thrashes would gather to watch Peter cut the wages off his five pound note and dispersed them. He was a fair employer and always paid his workers on time. It took almost a month to finish the boat. By this point, Peter worried that he would run out of money before they finished. It was exactly like a large nest meant to hold a single passenger Peter fashion to sail for it out of what remained of his nightgown, and it was complete that night. Peter climbed into his new boat and began his maiden voyage. But the second he pushed off from the Bank, the boat was turned in circles and thrown back onto the. The shore with such force. Peter was almost injected from his seat. He shook himself and drove the boat back into the water. This time, the harsh wind caught his boat and drove him toward the gardens with alarming speed. The very top of the mast clipped a bridge as it went under showering Peter with splinters. Fortunately, the sale itself remained intact. Peter could see the gardens now, but the boat was still moving dangerously fast. He cast the anchor Iraq tied to the remains of the kite string to try and slow his movement. But the water was too deep and then it caught something and yanked Peter overboard into the freezing water. The boy fought for air desperately releasing the kite string anchor. At once his head broke the surface and he gasped he had never properly learned how to swim. So all he could do was churn his legs. Like a duck and hope that kept him afloat long enough to catch his boat, his wandering hands, grasped the side of the boat, which fortunately had remained close by. He heaved himself over the edge and sat dripping inside his vessel high should have never forgotten how to fly. He thought to himself a moment later, rain pounded down at a harsh angle guided by a strong wind. Peter didn't even try to fight it this time. He merely curled into a ball and allowed the boat to be carried this way and that through the water is shut. And then all was still Peter opened his eyes and peered over the edge of his patchwork boat. He gasped and relief land dry land, and it wasn't the shore of Solomon. 'cause island either it was Kensington gardens, stop right there don't come any further. Peter looked down to see rows of ferry soldiers, arrows and Holly leaves pointed at him. They still miss, took him for human. Don't hurt me. Peter cried. I do not mean you any harm. He rose to his feet and stood above the rows of ferries. The ferry soldiers took a step forward, Holly leaves held in front of them. When Peter saw they were not stopping his heart began to race thinking fast. He reached behind him and began to fumble in his boat. Finally, his hand clasped what he was looking for and you lifted it back out of the boat. The ferries flinched expecting a weapon of some kind. But what Peter had in his spare hand was his pipe. He raised it to his lips and began to play. The music was so sweet that Queen mob ruler of the ferries emerged from her palace among the gardens to listen to it within minutes, she had proclaimed that no harm would come to this boy, fairies UC loved music more than anything else in the world. And they were delighted to have a new orchestra. Peter began playing for every ferry event and was soon a minor celebrity among the ferry community. Every invitation to a ferry party came with the letters p p written in the corner. His surname pen came from the instrument. He played his trustee pan-pipe. During the princesses coming of age ball, Queen mob ordered Peter to come before her Neil p Japan. You have been a most excellent musician for us. The ferry Queen continued. What is the wish of your heart? Tell me and I will grant it for you. Peter spoke almost instantly ever since learning. He was human back on Solomon 'cause island, he knew what his wish would be. I would like to go back to my mother. The ferries were taken aback by this request. He was no longer a boy to them or even a bird p was Peter Pan, but Queen mob consented to his wish and told him to prepare her. Courtiers sprinkled Peter with fairy dust. He sneezed sending several of the smaller ferries flying across the grass Queen mob told him that the secret to flying was to remember the tickling. He felt then and there that joy would lift him over the tallest buildings and into the sky. A moment later, he felt the do of the grass slip away. He was hovering several inches above the ground delighted. He flew in a circle around his ferry friends crowing as he went without a glance over his shoulder. He soared off toward the buildings of London after a few moments of flying in that direction. Peter realized that he had no idea where his house was. He had flown out of his window. Oh, so long ago, but he was determined. He went from window to window, checking each nursery for one that looked familiar. Some were barred, some were not, but none looked familiar. Finally, he saw it a faint light in one of the taller buildings. He glided toward it and alighted on the window sill. His memories of that first week of childhood began flooding back. He recognized the pile of unused toys on the floor. He recognized the crib, and he recognized the woman who sat by the crib is gently shut as she slept mother. He glided through the open window and looked his mother up and down. She was a very Pretty Woman with wavy Brown hair and an honest face, but there was something distressed about her. Her eyes had dark circles underneath them as if the sleep wasn't doing her any good. He thought he heard her mutter something. Did she say Peter under her breath or had he imagined it? He reached out his hand to touch her on the shoulder, then stopped. He knew what would happen if you wakened her, she would embrace him, kiss him and then shut the window and keep him all to herself. He would never see Queen mob or Solomon call ever. Again, if he ever came back to Kensington gardens, it would be in a stroller, and neither the ferries nor the birds would recognize him. Peter gulped nervously. Surely being a boy again would be pleasant, but how could he give up having free reign of Kensington gardens? How could he give up his lovingly crafted boat and his job as the fairy musician. Peter made his decision. I will return mother, he whispered. And with that, he flew out the window and back toward Kensington gardens through the haze of her sleep. She heard him, but just assumed it was part of the dream. Before his departure. Peter had to say goodbye to many inhabitants ferry and Berta like there were so many farewells to say and favourite haunts to revisit. He completely lost track of time. The temptation to stay was strong, so we kept having to remind himself, no, this is only a farewell visit. My mother is waiting for me back at home. When he landed again at the birds island, Solomon caw glared with disapproval, never put off laying today because you can lay tomorrow in this world. There are no second chances. It was a common saying among the birds. One Peter had heard many times before, so he paid it. No mind that night. Peter had a horrible dream in it. He saw his mother sitting by the open window crying. He flew away from Kensington gardens that very evening knowing that whatever was causing her to cry. A hug from her long lost son would make her feel better. He wore his tattered nightgown as he flew back. He needed to appear extra human. Of course, he saw light in the window and his face lit up home. He would be able to play his pipe for his mother and delight her with all the ferry tunes. He had learned. But as he drew closer to the window, something curious caught his eye. The light was broken by several rods of metal bars. Wait. This window was in barred. He thought to himself, I must've mistaken, some other nursery for my own. And yet he did not alter course. He kept flying toward the window and peered inside just to be sure his heart sank. It was his nursery. All right. And that was his mother holding a different baby boy in her arms mother, mother Peter cried out. The window was shut tight, and she didn't raise her head. He felt tears in his eyes and a pain growing in his chest. Solomon call was right. There are no second chances. Will return to our story in just a moment. And now back to the story. The frost crunched under Mamie manoeuvrings feet. It was passed lockout time, but Mamie had escaped her nurse during their evening walk. Her brother, Tony was such a handful. She wouldn't be surprised if the nurse forgot about her entirely. Mamie found this invigorating. She had always wanted to wonder Kensington after dark. She left the footpath quickly and ran this way and that through the trees not caring, the keep track her footprints in the snow would guide her way back after all a haunting melody rang faintly on the winter wind. It was unlike any music she'd ever heard. She turned and began to walk towards it. Cold completely forgotten. Faint lights grew in a clearing up ahead under the shade of a massive oak. The music grew as she came closer and she walked up to the tree. What she saw nearly took her breath away. It seemed to be a fairy wedding, which is unlike any wedding she'd ever heard of the field beneath the tree sparkled with tiny candles and flowers lined the miniature grove, having been defrosted for the occasion fairies themselves lined the clearing thimble foles of blackberry wine in their tiny hands and at the center of it all were the lucky couple, a male and female. Fairy standing together gazing into each other's is a ferry doctor stood by the groom, putting his ear to the other ferries heart carefully as he did. So the mood in the room silenced waiting for his verdict, the ferry doctor pulled away as if singed by the groom he proclaimed the Duke is in love at last the room burst into merriment once again. Mamie was amazed. Is this how you tell someone was in love by listening very closely to their heart? She was so caught up in the moment that she started clapping along with the ferries, maybe a little too loudly. The ferries looked around to see where that thundering noise came from Queen mob sitting on her throne. At the end of the tree, stood to her full height and shouted, slay the intruder. Maimi fled the way she came the buzzing of a hundred very wings roaring in her ears. She slipped on a patch of ice and fell face flat on the snow rolling to a halt. By the roots. She turned over to see a crowd of angry fairies. Hovering over her Holly leaves and twigs like spears pointed at her Queen mob herself, walked up onto maimings chest and pointed a discarded toothpick at her. I may me squeezed it shut awaiting her fate. Stop Mamie, opened her eyes. The ferry couple had finally caught up with the procession of furious guards the bride, a slender. Fairy named brownie, flew up in front of Queen mob and stood in between her and the unfortunate child. It is my wedding, the obstinate ferry proclaimed and we shall not kill it child on my way. Wedding. Queen mob rolled her eyes, but did not fight her. If that's your wedding boon. So be it. She dismounted the child and return to the oak brownie turned and looked down at the child at that moment. Mamie fainted from the excitement. When she awoke it was completely dark. Even the moonlight or distant lights from London weren't visible. And then she realized there was a structure of some kind round her Mamie pushed up and the darkness parted to reveal the familiar night sky. She stood up and carefully stepped away from the coffin she had emerged from, no, not a coffin, a house. The ferries must have built it around her while she slept. It was exactly her shape and size, and rather cute. She wished for a minute. She'd stayed in longer to appreciate the warmth that provided she would have surely frozen to death if not for this bit of very engine new ity. But if she stared at it, the house began to shrink I, it was half its size. So only her little brother could fit in it, then it was a quarter, then it was only big enough for. The smallest baby it shrunk and shrunk and finally vanished completely Mamie. Let out a small Saab for the pretty little house don't cry. Girl Mamie stopped mid Saab. That wasn't like any of the ferry voices. She had heard. She turned to see a small child far smaller than her little brother. Hovering above the snow. Your Peter Pan. She exclaimed the boys expression lit up. How do you know me? He asked she told him that everybody knows about the boy who lives in Kensington gardens. Peter flew over and cleared a patch of snow for them to both sit down once they were settled. He begged her to tell him everything. They said about him. The stories the children told about Peter Pan were very different from the truth. Many were exaggerated and many others were simply made up. So Peter took it upon himself to set the record straight. The detail that delighted may me the most was how he traveled to and from the birds island in his boat, which Mamie found amusing since the boy could clearly fly. He laughed when she pointed this out. Why would I fly across the water? When I have a perfectly good boat deride the logic seemed to make sense to him. So mamy did not question it. She told him he must be very brave to make such a voyage every night. Brave. What is brave? She almost laughed aloud. When Peter said this, had he never heard of bravery before as the night were on Mamie taught Peter, many games her and the other children would play in the park excited to have a playmate Peter insisted you should stay here with me. I could make room on my boat for you. Wouldn't the birds be angry with you? Bringing someone to their island? She asked, he shook his head emphatically. They would be delighted to have you. He thought for a moment. Then added though they may want your first to line their nests. Maimi hesitated at this. Peter May be comfortable wandering the wilderness as a naked child, but she was not. She rather liked her furs and would be cold without them. Maybe I could visit and split my time between you and mother made me suggested. Peter became uncharacteristically quiet. If you're sure your mother will always want you. He said in a voice almost too soft to here. Of course, she will Mamie exclaimed you do not know mothers as I do me Peter said darkly, and he told her the story of how his mother had replaced him, may MEES heart sank. Her mother would not do this. All of a sudden the idea of spending so much time with Peter Pan felt like a dangerous thing to do. What if her mother had moved on already? What was she to do Mamie backed away slowly nervously, wringing her hands and making all manner of excuses. She loved the boy in the gardens, but did not compare to how she loved her mother. She promised him, she would return and I will be here waiting for you. Peter proclaimed gallantly Mamie smiled at him one last time and ran to the gates escaping back into the world of proper children. Although she meant what she said. She never saw Peter Pan again. Peter was just as carefree as ever without his new friend. He played in the gardens by himself, making up versions of games. He suspected other children played. He flew with the birds played his pipes for the fairies and without malice completely forgot about Maimi. One evening as he emerged from his hiding place. Before lockout time, he saw a strange sight, a pair of infants, lying on the pavement. They had fallen from there strollers unnoticed and died in the cold. Peter inspected them and found their names were Walter Stephen Matthews and Phoebe Phelps. He took their tiny bodies and buried them near by using a discarded spayed. He carved their initials onto small headstones. He also put Phoebe age of thirteen months on her headstone, but did not Mark Walters. Similarly, he could not figure out what age the little boy was the next morning when the forgetful parents ran into the gardens to find their children, they found only the bespoke gravestones fashioned by Peter Pan in the night from then on. Peter would do this for all the chill. Who died forgotten in Kensington gardens. The story of Peter Pan in Kensington gardens does not quite fit in with the Peter Pan. We all know and love. The Peter in this story is less assured of himself and far younger. His principal foes are not pirates or Indians, but rather the elements and his own ignorance about himself. Most literary critics see this story not as a prequel to Peter Pan and Neverland, but as an alternate telling in which berry tested out storylines he would later perfect in the subsequent play. For instance, Mamie mentoring shares an eerie similarity to the character of Wendy darling. Thank you for listening to tales in two weeks. We'll begin the most iconic version of Peter Pan meet Wendy John, and Michael darling and introduced Peter's conflict with the infamous captain hook and his band of cutthroats. If you want to listen to more episodes of tales or other park cast podcasts, you can find all podcasts, podcasts on apple, podcasts, Stitcher, Google play, cast box tune in or your favorite podcast directory. Some listeners have been asking how to help the show. Well, if you enjoy the show, the best way to do that is to leave a five star review. Join me in two weeks for another dark and surprising fairytale to you. Next time tales was created by max Cutler. It is a production of Cutler media and is part of the podcast network. It is produced by max and Ron Cutler sound designed by Ron Shapiro with production assistance by Paul. Moller additional production assistance by Maggie admire and car. Early Madden tales is written by Robert team stra. I'm Vanessa Richardson.