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Prologue ✧

Prologue ✧

"I wasn't crying about mothers," he said rather indignantly. "I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasn't crying."

"It has come off?"

"Yes."

I then saw myself looking at a shadow on the floor, looking so draggled, and I felt sorry for the boy.

"How awful!" I said, but when I saw a bar of soap on the ground I couldn't help but smile. He must've been trying to stick it back on with the soap.

"It must be sewn on." I told him.

And he replied so ignorantly. "What's sewn?"

"You're dreadfully ignorant."

"No, I'm not." Yes, you are.

"I shall sew it on for you, my little man." I saw myself getting out a sewing bag. Taking the boy's shadow and his foot, I started to sew the shadow back on to him. "I daresay it will hurt a little."

"Oh, I shan't cry," Said he, and cry he did not. His shadow soon behaved properly, but was a little creased.

"Perhaps I should have ironed it," I murmured to myself, but the boy paid me no attention. He was already jumping about in glee, as though he was basking in the glory that he had sewn his shadow back on to himself.

"How clever I am!" He kept crowing, "oh, the cleverness of me!"

Oh, the cockiness of you.

"You conceit, of course I did nothing!" I exclaimed rather sarcastically.

And the boy, still dancing, said rather carelessly, "You did a little."

That of course, riled me up even more. "A little!" Oh the disbelief in my voice. "If I am no use I can at least withdraw." And with that, I went back to my bed in my most dignified manner and covered my face with the blankets.

He pretended to leave in order to get me to look up from my sheets, but he failed when he saw that I wouldn't budge. So he sat on the end of my bed and gently tapped me with his foot.

"Wendy," He said, "don't withdraw. I can't help crowing, Wendy, when I'm pleased with myself."

I still refused to look up, but I felt myself listening to him with eagerness.

"Wendy," He continued, in this voice that was simply irresistible to any woman, "Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys."

With that being said, I finally looked out of the blankets. "Do you really think so --?" Oddly enough, whenever his name would be said my voice would disappear. And I could never see my lips clearly enough to read them, for the dream, in all its clarity, was also very blurry. But his voice was always loud and clear.

"Yes, I do."