They took it for granted that if they went he would go also, but really they scarcely cared.

Thus children are ever ready, when novelty knocks, to desert their dearest ones.
"All right," Peter replied with a bitter smile, and immediately they rushed to get their things.
"And now, Peter," Wendy said, thinking she had put everything right, "I am going to give you your medicine before you go." She loved to give them medicine, and undoubtedly gave them too much.

Of course it was only water, but it was out of a bottle, and she always shook the bottle and counted the drops, which gave it a certain medicinal quality.

On this occasion, however, she did not give Peter his draught [portion], for just as she had prepared it, she saw a look on his face that made her heart sink.
"Get your things, Peter," she cried, shaking.
"No," he answered, pretending indifference, "I am not going with you, Wendy." "Yes, Peter." "No." To show that her departure would leave him unmoved, he skipped up and down the room, playing gaily on his heartless pipes.

She had to run about after him, though it was rather undignified.
"To find your mother," she coaxed.
Now, if Peter had ever quite had a mother, he no longer missed her.