Wendy was quite happy back in her little hole. She'd also gotten quite used to it. To her, it seemed as if she had been there in Neverland her whole life.

Of course, Wendy had her own little routines she had to follow, most of which, at the time, involved cleaning. Taking care of the Lost Boys, you see, they were quite messy folk. After sawing the tree trunk down at tea time, they always left such a mess, but Wendy didn't mind. She was their mother, and she was overjoyed to take care of them.

It was one day after tea-time, when Wendy was washing the make-believe preserve jar and telling Tootles to go out and pick some more make-believe raspberries so they had enough preserves for tomorrow's tea, the Wendy stumbled across the letters. They were nestled neatly in the corner of the dish-dryer, and seemed to be have long since abandoned by time. She knew it couldn't have been Peter's- he couldn't print if Hook threatened John's life- but perhaps, she thought, it could be from an old test from a week ago or so. She opened it up, half-expecting there to be questions such as 'What colour are Nana's eyes?" and "Who is taller, Mother or Father?" but to her surprise, it was scribed in her own print.

She read it once over, and then over again.
Wendy could have sworn on a mermaid's tail that she had never seen the letter before. A little disturbed, she set them down on the table-trunk, and then went back to cleaning out the make-believe glass, before moving on to the make-believe cutlery and saucers. Within a couple of minutes, she forgot she even found the letter in the first place, and got sucked up into her everyday duties and attending to her children, as all mothers do.

By this time, Tootles had finished picking the make-believe raspberries, and now swung his make-believe basket over his shoulder as he marched gaily to his tree trunk. Sliding down it quite easily, he presented the raspberries to his mother with a quirky little bow, and she accepted and planted a little thimble on his head.

It was when Tootles was waiting for the Twins to come back from their little expedition when he stumbled across Wendy's letter. He was still quite a novice at reading words and letters, and so he stumbled acoss the letter and he read only one out of three words, and then he had to go back and read it all over again because he forget the previous word he read every time he read a new one. The letter went as this:

Dearest Mother,
Salutations. John, Michael and I arrived Neverland but a fortnight ago. It's been quite pleasant, and the Lost Boys have welcomed us in quite properly. They're the homeliest things you've ever seen, Mother, but each of the children are so sweet, in their own way. There's also the fairy Tinkerbell, and she looks and holds herself so lovely, yet she talks so insolently. Peter must convert her tongue to us, because we don't speak the languages of the fairies. However, we never get an exact translation because she only speaks profanities. She even tried to have me killed! O Mother, I don't know how I shall keep myself up around her, I so badly want to be her bosom friend but she seems to detest me. Everything about her, even her lodgings enchant me so. The boy Peter is quite odd as well. He is ever so cunning, yet he is brave and laughs at the face of danger. I wish I could have his wit, Mother. He's provoked many fights with the pirate Hook, who gives me such a fright. He also has a terrible memory, he'll come home and forget our names, but I'm quite aware of his attempts to keep his memory fresh. The other children join him on his conquests, and John is becoming such a dignified swordsman. Michael doesn't have as much of the knack, but he tries his very best nonetheless. The other boys have been here for a long time, and are used to the excitement and rush of the hunt. There's Tootles, forever the humblest. Then there's Nibs, the gay and Slightly, the conceited. At last, there's the pickle, Curly and then finally the Twins. I am mother to all of them, Mother. It's frightfully fascinating, because initially I had no experience in such things, I was a little girl. But I have done as you have done to me, and my children are growing up quite delightfully. I spend much time in the kitchen and I cook for them bread-fruit and coco-nut, baked pig when Peter brings me the lot.
I peer out my kitchen window and into the stars above every now and then. I wonder, Mother, do you miss me so? I will come back, if not soon then eventually. I have my children to raise. You'll wait for me, and keep your window open for your children, O Mother, won't you?

Your daughter,
Wendy Moira Angela Darling

By the time Tootles was finished, the Twins had come home and they needed to read the letter all over again. When Slightly had slid back down into the little house that evening, he didn't bother with the letter, and instead wrinkled his nose, and carried on with his business, which is to say, he did nothing.

At long last, two hours later, the three boys sneaked by their mother, who was busying herself with smoking the yams. "Wendy lady," they called ever sing-song.

"O Mother Wendy,
Please read this to us!
For it looks so intriguing,
As your print is so just!"

Delighted, she sang back in her lovely voice,

"Come, dear children, settle close!
Sit by the fire and coo.
And listen to my old, ancient letter,
and Slighty, you gather 'round too!"

They had no spare firewood, so the Twins made-believe the flickering flame. Then, Wendy read to them the letter. Halfway through, Nibs, Curly, and Michael came sliding down their hollow trunks, and she had to start over. Soon, John and Peter arrived, and the children all stood to greet the boy Peter, thus interrupting the letter once more.

"I complain of John," Michael stated indifferently. "He was late."

John sat down in front of the make-believe fire. "I complain of Michael," he spat right back.

Peter chose not to join in the circle of listeners. Such things didn't interest him.

Wendy looked thoughtfully at the fairy Tinkerbell, who had been sitting in John's hat. "Tink," she offered politely, "would you like to listen too?"

The little fairy made a sour expression. In her speech that sounded like tinkling bells, she muttered bitterly, "You silly ass!"

She said it so often it didn't need translation. Wendy took it as a no. She turned back to her children. "Hear," the Wendy lady said, "I shall begin reading, so listen close."

"Dear Mother," she started,

"I have carried out my duties to my children, morn and night. Heed my words, this Neverland is delightful. Such adventures have we. Once, in yonder waters there sits a large stone, they honour it Marooner's Rock. In the waters live mermaids, the most beautiful creatures. They sing the loveliest melodies. The lagoon itself shimmers of rainbow. On a day, the water seemed to stop shimmering. 'Tis the pirate Hook's men, the foul creatures. They have captured redskins' princess, Tiger Lily, and they set her on the rock and tie her there, so that she may drown and forgotten. Peter deceives them, and the princess is set free. Cutlasses clash against swords, and I watch from the sidelines. John kills one by himself, he starts to resemble himself much like his father. I am full of pride. For supper, I craft a banana tart and the children are delighted. Father Peter enjoys it as well. Motherhood has its joys, Mother, does it not?"

"Your daughter,
Wendy Angela Moira Darling."

The children leaned forward on mention of the banana tart. Wendy took notice to this, but failed to take notice of the time. Tootles, forever loyal, took notice for her and brought it to his mother's attention, whereupon she immediately ushered them into their beds and helped Michael into his cradle.

When the children were asleep in bed, she sat, Peter by her side in the sitting room. A soft lantern illuminated their faces, which were ever so solemn a requiem could have been playing. As she reached for the third letter, Peter sharpened his cutlass and whittled a branch into a whistle.

Dear Mother,

I played a mother's role today and saved my children from the rotten pirates. The creatures lay cakes all about the island, each of them set drunk with poison so that my children may eat them and fall dead. I allowed not for such a thing to happen. Flying about the island, I collected cake after cake. They took the appearance of an Angel Food, surrounded by blueberries and washed in syrup, set on a porcelain platter. I collected them up and Peter left them on the mast of the pirate ship when they were at anchor, and as they took their leave the plates tumbled off the mast and smashed into the ground. We watched from afar, along with the children, and got our fair share of entertainment. Curly was so close to eating one, relieved I made it in time. Our family is maturing wonderfully. Nibs, Slightly, Curly, Tootles, Twins, I consider them all my own. Michael and John are like my own children now, I hope I'm doing a good enough job to please thee, O Mother. I will come home, but first I have a family to raise and protect. I beg you, please wait for me.

Your fellow mother,
Wendy Angela Moira Darling