Winnie climbed up on his back as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and the two Beetles climbed up behind her. The drummer Beetle started playing at once--_one-two-three-four, pit-tip, tip-pit; one-two-three-four, pat-tap, tap-pat_--and the whole four of them sailed up the chimney. It was not hot (as Winnie explained), for the fire had burnt very low and that was what had beaten the kettle, but it _was_ sooty, and she remembers quite well longing to see the clean, white snow on the roof. The Cricket went up crab-wise--a little jump to one side and a little jump to the other; so he took quite a long time to reach the chimney-pot, and when he crawled on to the edge of it the snow was all gone. ("That was the queerest thing of all, Father," said Winnie "there were leaves and flowers and sunshine, and it was just like summer.") "Now hold tight," said the Cricket, "while I unpack my wings." [Illustration] This was quite a long business, for the Cricket had to keep moistening his fingers, and Winnie and the Beetles had to keep crawling up and down his back, so as not to be in the way. At last everything was ready, and the Cricket poised himself on the edge of the chimney, spread his wings wide apart, and slid into the air. Winnie was just a little frightened at first, and she put her head down close to the Cricket's neck and shut her eyes and dug her fingers into the chinks of his back; but presently she felt that it was no good being frightened, for they were going quite smoothly, and the Cricket's wing-covers were high up on either side of her, so that she could hardly have fallen off if she had tried to. Soon she felt brave enough to raise her head very carefully and look about her. The kitchen chimney was some way behind, the great elm on her left, and the river close in front. Just before they reached the river the Cricket's wings buzzed like blue-bottles, and she felt they were going upwards. Then came another long, gentle glide, and the Cricket landed on the blackberry hedge at the bottom of the meadow. [Illustration] "You must all get off here," he said. Winnie stepped off his back on to a slippery thorn, missed her footing, and fell on the top of the Great Green Grasshopper's wife. "I beg your pardon!" said the Great Green Grasshopper's wife. "I think I ought to beg yours," said Winnie politely--which is where the story began some time ago. [Illustration: "I BEG YOUR PARDON," SAID THE GREAT GREEN GRASSHOPPER'S WIFE] The Great Green Grasshopper's wife was more amused than offended. "Don't mention it," she said. "I suppose you've come to help us, and I'm very glad to see you. It is really most unfortunate, but I couldn't possibly let my husband come--the first Christmas Eve he has missed for years--but, as I said to him, 'If your leg's frostbitten, you're much better in your hole.' Don't you agree with me?" "Oh, yes, I think so," said Winnie, who felt she must say something.