"Who is Rose-Petal?" asked Peter, gazing admiringly at his companion, who certainly could not have looked prettier anywhere than she did on that pure, fleecy-white cloud bank.
"Rose-Petal is the fairy who owns the wand you have. She lost it last night at a fire-fly ball, and though the fire-flies were very kind and held their lanterns and flew about looking everywhere they could think of, they couldn't find it. Rose-Petal is down beside the dusty road, now, where it is so hot that she feels as if she were wilting; so I know you won't keep her waiting."
The fairy sent another sweet and coaxing smile up at Peter but he frowned.
"It's queer that a fellow can't get away from people even if he climbs up on a cloud miles away from the earth," he said; for the last thing he was willing to do was to give back the wand to Rose-Petal.
"How did you find me?" he added, "and what is your name?"
"My name is Lily-bud, and I found you very easily, only I must say that if I had not seen Rose-Petal's wand in your hand I would have thought it was the wrong person."
"Well, it is the wrong person," said Peter crossly. "This wand is mine."
The fairy nodded sadly. "O, yes," she replied, "I see the Wise Woman was right. She said you told lies!"
"You want to be careful how you talk to me," said Peter very loud, and growing red in the face. "A little more and I'll knock you off this cloud."