“But I didn’t come up here to learn,” said Griselda; “I can do that down there;” and she nodded her head in the direction of the ante-room table.  “I want to play.”

“Just so,” said the cuckoo; “that’s what I want to talk about.  What do you call ’play’—­blindman’s-buff and that sort of thing?”

“No,” said Griselda, considering.  “I’m getting rather too big for that kind of play.  Besides, cuckoo, you and I alone couldn’t have much fun at blindman’s-buff; there’d be only me to catch you or you to catch me.”

“Oh, we could easily get more,” said the cuckoo.  “The mandarins would be pleased to join.”

“The mandarins!” repeated Griselda.  “Why, cuckoo, they’re not alive!  How could they play?”

The cuckoo looked at her gravely for a minute, then shook his head.

“You have a great deal to learn,” he said solemnly.  “Don’t you know that everything’s alive?”

“No,” said Griselda, “I don’t; and I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t think I want to know what you mean.  I want to talk about playing.”

“Well,” said the cuckoo, “talk.”

“What I call playing,” pursued Griselda, “is—­I have thought about it now, you see—­is being amused.  If you will amuse me, cuckoo, I will count that you are playing with me.”

“How shall I amuse you?” inquired he.

“Oh, that’s for you to find out!” exclaimed Griselda.  “You might tell me fairy stories, you know:  if you’re a fairy you should know lots; or—­oh yes, of course that would be far nicer—­if you are a fairy you might take me with you to fairyland.”

Again the cuckoo shook his head.

“That,” said he, “I cannot do.”

“Why not?” said Griselda.  “Lots of children have been there.”

“I doubt it,” said the cuckoo. “Some may have been, but not lots.  And some may have thought they had been there who hadn’t really been there at all.  And as to those who have been there, you may be sure of one thing—­they were not taken, they found their own way.  No one ever was taken to fairyland—­to the real fairyland.  They may have been taken to the neighbouring countries, but not to fairyland itself.”

“And how is one ever to find one’s own way there?” asked Griselda.

“That I cannot tell you either,” replied the cuckoo.  “There are many roads there; you may find yours some day.  And if ever you do find it, be sure you keep what you see of it well swept and clean, and then you may see further after a while.  Ah, yes, there are many roads and many doors into fairyland!”

“Doors!” cried Griselda.  “Are there any doors into fairyland in this house?”

“Several,” said the cuckoo; “but don’t waste your time looking for them at present.  It would be no use.”

“Then how will you amuse me?” inquired Griselda, in a rather disappointed tone.

“Don’t you care to go anywhere except to fairyland?” said the cuckoo.