“Oh yes, there are lots of places I wouldn’t mind seeing.  Not geography sort of places—­it would be just like lessons to go to India and Africa and all those places—­but queer places, like the mines where the goblins make diamonds and precious stones, and the caves down under the sea where the mermaids live.  And—­oh, I’ve just thought—­now I’m so nice and little, I would like to go all over the mandarins’ palace in the great saloon.”

“That can be easily managed,” said the cuckoo; “but—­excuse me for an instant,” he exclaimed suddenly.  He gave a spring forward and disappeared.  Then Griselda heard his voice outside the doors, “Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo.”  It was three o’clock.

The doors opened again to let him through, and he re-settled himself on his chair.  “As I was saying,” he went on, “nothing could be easier.  But that palace, as you call it, has an entrance on the other side, as well as the one you know.”

“Another door, do you mean?” said Griselda.  “How funny!  Does it go through the wall?  And where does it lead to?”

“It leads,” replied the cuckoo, “it leads to the country of the Nodding Mandarins.”

“What fun!” exclaimed Griselda, clapping her hands.  “Cuckoo, do let us go there.  How can we get down?  You can fly, but must I slide down the chain again?”

“Oh dear, no,” said the cuckoo, “by no means.  You have only to stretch out your feather mantle, flap it as if it was wings—­so”—­he flapped his own wings encouragingly—­“wish, and there you’ll be.”

“Where?” said Griselda bewilderedly.

“Wherever you wish to be, of course,” said the cuckoo.  “Are you ready?  Here goes.”

“Wait—­wait a moment,” cried Griselda.  “Where am I to wish to be?”

“Bless the child!” exclaimed the cuckoo.  “Where do you wish to be?  You said you wanted to visit the country of the Nodding Mandarins.”

“Yes; but am I to wish first to be in the palace in the great saloon?”

“Certainly,” replied the cuckoo.  “That is the entrance to Mandarin Land, and you said you would like to see through it.  So—­you’re surely ready now?”

“A thought has just struck me,” said Griselda.  “How will you know what o’clock it is, so as to come back in time to tell the next hour?  My aunts will get into such a fright if you go wrong again!  Are you sure we shall have time to go to the mandarins’ country to-night?”

“Time!” repeated the cuckoo; “what is time?  Ah, Griselda, you have a very great deal to learn!  What do you mean by time?”

“I don’t know,” replied Griselda, feeling rather snubbed.  “Being slow or quick—­I suppose that’s what I mean.”

“And what is slow, and what is quick?” said the cuckoo. “All a matter of fancy!  If everything that’s been done since the world was made till now, was done over again in five minutes, you’d never know the difference.”