Those who had wished for gold doubloons and pieces of nine and ten, those who had thought of tiaras, necklaces, and pocket watches; those who had hoped for storybooks and Fabergé eggs no longer wanted any of those things. All they wanted now was a warm fire and a hot meal, a feather eiderdown and some steaming Bovril. True, Curly did desperately wish he had not lost the puppy, but quickly unthought the wish; a puppy shut up in a treasure chest was not at all a happy thought. But it made no difference what they wished. They all knew that Peter would wish better than any of them, and that he would decide what they found when they finally lifted the lid of Hook’s treasure chest. They sang to carry them the last little way, and the rainbow banner fluttered bravely over their heads. ‘To the top, we’re going right to the top; From the capital letter to the last full stop; From the very first sip to the final drop: That’s where we’re going: right to the top! All the way we’re going; we’re going all the way, From the first crack of dawn to the close of the day.
