“I know,” she exclaimed.  “It’s exactly like the one that stands under a glass shade on Lady Lavander’s drawing-room mantelpiece.  I wonder if it is the very one?  Fancy me being able to get into it!”

She looked at the four bearers.  Instantly they all nodded.

“What do they mean?” asked Griselda, turning to the cuckoo.

“Get in,” he replied.

“Yes, I’m just going to get in,” she said; “but what do they mean when they nod at me like that?”

“They mean, of course, what I tell you—­’Get in,’” said the cuckoo.

“Why don’t they say so, then?” persisted Griselda, getting in, however, as she spoke.

“Griselda, you have a very great——­” began the cuckoo, but Griselda interrupted him.

“Cuckoo,” she exclaimed, “if you say that again, I’ll jump out of the palanquin and run away home to bed.  Of course I’ve a great deal to learn—­that’s why I like to ask questions about everything I see.  Now, tell me where we are going.”

“In the first place,” said the cuckoo, “are you comfortable?”

“Very,” said Griselda, settling herself down among the cushions.

It was a change from the cuckoo’s boudoir.  There were no chairs or seats, only a number of very, very soft cushions covered with green silk.  There were green silk curtains all round, too, which you could draw or not as you pleased, just by touching a spring.  Griselda stroked the silk gently.  It was not “fruzzley” silk, if you know what that means; it did not make you feel as if your nails wanted cutting, or as if all the rough places on your skin were being rubbed up the wrong way; its softness was like that of a rose or pansy petal.

“What nice silk!” said Griselda.  “I’d like a dress of it.  I never noticed that the palanquin was lined so nicely,” she continued, “for I suppose it is the one from Lady Lavander’s mantelpiece?  There couldn’t be two so exactly like each other.”

The cuckoo gave a sort of whistle.

“What a goose you are, my dear!” he exclaimed.  “Excuse me,” he continued, seeing that Griselda looked rather offended; “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but you won’t let me say the other thing, you know.  The palanquin from Lady Lavander’s!  I should think not.  You might as well mistake one of those horrible paper roses that Dorcas sticks in her vases for one of your aunt’s Gloires de Dijon!  The palanquin from Lady Lavander’s—­a clumsy human imitation not worth looking at!”

“I didn’t know,” said Griselda humbly.  “Do they make such beautiful things in Mandarin Land?”

“Of course,” said the cuckoo.

Griselda sat silent for a minute or two, but very soon she recovered her spirits.

“Will you please tell me where we are going?” she asked again.

“You’ll see directly,” said the cuckoo; “not that I mind telling you.  There’s to be a grand reception at one of the palaces to-night.  I thought you’d like to assist at it.  It’ll give you some idea of what a palace is like.  By-the-by, can you dance?”