A bright pink hairbrush was lifted out first, Mr Growls examining it with a snort of amusement. Muddle, standing before him, lit up her horn again and took the brush back from him. “It’s a hairbrush. Hair-brush. Brush.” Levitating it up, she moved it to one of his arms and stroked the exposed skin with the bristles. “I thought you’d like it, so you can brush all of those teeny-tiny hairs that you’ve got. To keep them all clean.”