Tabiatha, rising to the occasion, and quick to seize an opportunity or anything else, took her last and only chance. She seized the poultry with both paws--Crack! Snap! She lost her balance and fell down, down, on to the cushioned chair. The Cuckoo flew into the air, alighted on Tabiatha's back, and bounded on to the ground. Tabiatha forgot at once her escape from breaking her neck, sprang after the Cuckoo lying there, turned it over, paused, sniffed, found to her surprise that it was not good to eat, that it hadn't even feathers, and was only made of wood, turned it over again, and began tapping it and pouncing on it until, suddenly forgetting all about it, she cantered away sideways with her tail curling in the air. She jumped into her basket, rolled herself up, soon purred herself fast asleep, and looked the very picture of helpless innocence. The Cuckoo, out in the world at last, having recovered from its first alarm at the useless stiffness of its wings, waited for something to happen. As nothing did happen, it thought the world a very dull and stupid place, and concluded that, after all, work was better than lying there helpless, idle, motionless, and ridiculous. What was the use of its trained voice now? It couldn't articulate a sound even to summon help. It had no idea of the time, but the sun was shining brightly when at last it found itself carefully lifted and placed on a higher level. * * * * * When Lucy entered the nursery that morning, soon after Robert, he exclaimed-- "I say, Lucy! There's something fresh for breakfast. Look on your plate!" "Oh, my poor Cuckoo!" she cried in distress. "You've shot it at last. You bad boy--I shan't love you ever any more!" But she did love him at once again, for it was a fact that no one knew how ever the Cuckoo came to be lying on the floor in the remote corner where Nurse had picked it up. The cushioned chair was in its place again--a long way off the clock. Every one was mystified, and could not imagine how it had happened. But Tabiatha knew all about it, though you would never have guessed it from her round, innocent eyes as she sat licking first one velvety paw, and then the other velvety paw, as though she were washing them of any share in the mischief. When the Clock-House was spring-cleaned, and the Cuckoo duly set there on its legs again, it formed the firm determination to remain at its post in the future, and, with its Clock-House in order, it worked ever after with regularity and good humour just like one o'clock. "Cuc--koo!" Bow, click. CHRISTMAS AT THE COURT OF KING JORUM