Suddenly something began to scratch him like a thousand pins and he found himself in the midst of the brambles, which at every move made him squeal as he was scratched in a new place.
Before he managed to get out of that tormenting bush, Peter was a thoroughly frightened and suffering boy. Pat leaped about in distress and even made his own mouth sore trying to pull away the brambles so his master could escape.
At last Peter was free, and rolling to a safe spot on the grass, he set himself to pull out some of the thorns that stuck in his flesh. As he did so Pat licked the hurt places on his master's legs and arms and this, with the sight of the wounds on the dog's own lips, which he had suffered in trying to help Peter, brought tears to the boy's eyes. He put his arms around Pat, and the dog licked his master's cheek in his happiness.
"Wise Peter," said a voice. "Now there is hope."
Peter looked up and there sat Lily-bud swaying on a purple thistle. She smiled very kindly at the boy.
"You've had a hard time, haven't you?" she said.
Peter nodded. He was trying to stop the bleeding of Pat's lips with the edge of his soft, wet shirt. "I wish I had never kicked my dog," he said.
At that Lily-bud's face grew very happy. "Do you begin to see that you didn't understand how to use Rose-Petal's wand?" she asked.
Peter felt too crushed to speak. He shook his head.
"You see," explained Lily-bud, "that wand belongs to a good fairy."