He hopped down a sort of little staircase near which they were standing, and Griselda followed him willingly enough. At the foot they found themselves in a vestibule, much handsomer than the entrance at the other side, and the cuckoo, crossing it, lifted one of his claws and touched a spring in the wall. Instantly a pair of large doors flew open in the middle, revealing to Griselda the prettiest and most curious sight she had ever seen. A flight of wide shallow steps led down from this doorway into a long, long avenue bordered by stiffly growing trees, from the branches of which hung innumerable lamps of every colour, making a perfect network of brilliance as far as the eye could reach. "Oh, how lovely!" cried Griselda, clapping her hands. "It'll be like walking along a rainbow. Cuckoo, come quick." "Stop," said the cuckoo; "we've a good way to go. There's no need to walk. Palanquin!" He flapped his wings, and instantly a palanquin appeared at the foot of the steps. It was made of carved ivory, and borne by four Chinese-looking figures with pigtails and bright-coloured jackets. A feeling came over Griselda that she was dreaming, or else that she had seen this palanquin before. She hesitated. Suddenly she gave a little jump of satisfaction. "I know," she exclaimed. "It's exactly like the one that stands under a glass shade on Lady Lavander's drawing-room mantelpiece. I wonder if it is the very one? Fancy me being able to get _into_ it!" She looked at the four bearers. Instantly they all nodded. "What do they mean?" asked Griselda, turning to the cuckoo. "Get in," he replied. "Yes, I'm just going to get in," she said; "but what do _they_ mean when they nod at me like that?" "They mean, of course, what I tell you--'Get in,'" said the cuckoo. "Why don't they say so, then?" persisted Griselda, getting in, however, as she spoke. "Griselda, you have a _very_ great----" began the cuckoo, but Griselda interrupted him. "Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "if you say that again, I'll jump out of the palanquin and run away home to bed. Of course I've a great deal to learn--that's why I like to ask questions about everything I see. Now, tell me where we are going." "In the first place," said the cuckoo, "are you comfortable?" "Very," said Griselda, settling herself down among the cushions. It was a change from the cuckoo's boudoir. There were no chairs or seats, only a number of very, _very_ soft cushions covered with green silk. There were green silk curtains all round, too, which you could draw or not as you pleased, just by touching a spring. Griselda stroked the silk gently. It was not "fruzzley" silk, if you know what that means; it did not make you feel as if your nails wanted cutting, or as if all the rough places on your skin were being rubbed up the wrong way; its softness was like that of a rose or pansy petal.