[Illustration:  MANDARINS NODDING.]

“Oh, cuckoo, I wish you wouldn’t!” cried poor Griselda; “you’re worse than sums, you do so puzzle me.  It’s like what you said about nothing being big or little, only it’s worse.  Where would all the days and hours be if there was nothing but minutes?  Oh, cuckoo, you said you’d amuse me, and you do nothing but puzzle me.”

“It was your own fault.  You wouldn’t get ready,” said the cuckoo. “Now, here goes!  Flap and wish.”

Griselda flapped and wished.  She felt a sort of rustle in the air, that was all—­then she found herself standing with the cuckoo in front of the Chinese cabinet, the door of which stood open, while the mandarins on each side, nodding politely, seemed to invite them to enter.  Griselda hesitated.

“Go on,” said the cuckoo, patronizingly; “ladies first.”

Griselda went on.  To her surprise, inside the cabinet it was quite light, though where the light came from that illuminated all the queer corners and recesses and streamed out to the front, where stood the mandarins, she could not discover.

The “palace” was not quite as interesting as she had expected.  There were lots of little rooms in it opening on to balconies commanding, no doubt, a splendid view of the great saloon; there were ever so many little staircases leading to more little rooms and balconies; but it all seemed empty and deserted.

“I don’t care for it,” said Griselda, stopping short at last; “it’s all the same, and there’s nothing to see.  I thought my aunts kept ever so many beautiful things in here, and there’s nothing.”

“Come along, then,” said the cuckoo.  “I didn’t expect you’d care for the palace, as you called it, much.  Let us go out the other way.”

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.