"You don't care to go back to the mandarins, or the butterflies, I suppose?" asked the cuckoo. "No, thank you," said Griselda; "I'd like something new. And I'm not sure that I care for seeing any more countries of that kind, unless you could take me to the _real_ fairyland." "_I_ can't do that, you know," said the cuckoo. Just then a faint "soughing" sound among the branches suggested another idea to Griselda. "Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "take me to the sea. It's _such_ a time since I saw the sea. I can fancy I hear it; do take me to see it." [Illustration] X THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON [Illustration] "That after supper time has come, And silver dews the meadow steep, And all is silent in the home, And even nurses are asleep, That be it late, or be it soon, Upon this lovely night in June They both will step into the moon." "Very well," said the cuckoo. "You would like to look about you a little on the way, perhaps, Griselda, as we shall not be going down chimneys, or anything of that kind just at present." "Yes," said Griselda. "I think I should. I'm rather tired of shutting my eyes, and I'm getting quite accustomed to flying about with you, cuckoo." "Turn on your side, then," said the cuckoo, "and you won't have to twist your neck to see over my shoulder. Are you comfortable now? And, by-the-by, as you may be cold, just feel under my left wing. You'll find the feather mantle there, that you had on once before. Wrap it round you. I tucked it in at the last moment, thinking you might want it." "Oh, you dear, kind cuckoo!" cried Griselda. "Yes, I've found it. I'll tuck it all round me like a rug--that's it. I _am_ so warm now, cuckoo." "Here goes, then," said the cuckoo, and off they set. Had ever a little girl such a flight before? Floating, darting, gliding, sailing--no words can describe it. Griselda lay still in delight, gazing all about her. "How lovely the stars are, cuckoo!" she said. "Is it true they're all great, big _suns_? I'd rather they weren't. I like to think of them as nice, funny little things." "They're not all suns," said the cuckoo. "Not all those you're looking at now." "I like the twinkling ones best," said Griselda. "They look so good-natured. Are they _all_ twirling about always, cuckoo? Mr. Kneebreeches has just begun to teach me astronomy, and _he_ says they are; but I'm not at all sure that he knows much about it." "He's quite right all the same," replied the cuckoo. "Oh dear me! How tired they must be, then!" said Griselda. "Do they never rest just for a minute?" "Never." "Why not?" "Obeying orders," replied the cuckoo. Griselda gave a little wriggle. "What's the use of it?" she said. "It would be just as nice if they stood still now and then."