butterflies.  They were many times larger than any Griselda had yet seen; in fact, the cuckoo himself looked rather small beside them, and they were so beautiful that Griselda felt quite over-awed.  You could not have said what colour they were, for at the faintest movement they seemed to change into new colours, each more exquisite than the last.  Perhaps I could best give you an idea of them by saying that they were like living rainbows.

“Are those the king and queen?” asked Griselda in a whisper.

“Yes,” said the cuckoo.  “Do you admire them?”

“I should rather think I did,” said Griselda.  “But, cuckoo, do they never do anything but lie there in the sunshine?”

“Oh, you silly girl,” exclaimed the cuckoo, “always jumping at conclusions.  No, indeed, that is not how they manage things in butterfly-land.  The king and queen have worked harder than any other butterflies.  They are chosen every now and then, out of all the others, as being the most industrious and the cleverest of all the world-flower-painters, and then they are allowed to rest, and are fed on the finest essences, so that they grow as splendid as you see.  But even now they are not idle; they superintend all the work that is done, and choose all the new colours.”

“Dear me!” said Griselda, under her breath, “how clever they must be.”

Just then the butterfly king and queen stretched out their magnificent wings, and rose upwards, soaring proudly into the air.

“Are they going away?” said Griselda in a disappointed tone.

“Oh no,” said the cuckoo; “they are welcoming you.  Hold out your hands.”

Griselda held out her hands, and stood gazing up into the sky.  In a minute or two the royal butterflies appeared again, slowly, majestically circling downwards, till at length they alighted on Griselda’s little hands, the king on the right, the queen on the left, almost covering her fingers with their great dazzling wings.

“You do look nice now,” said the cuckoo, hopping back a few steps and looking up at Griselda approvingly; “but it’s time for the feast to begin, as it won’t do for us to be late.”

The king and queen appeared to understand.  They floated away from Griselda’s hands and settled themselves, this time, at one end of a beautiful little grass plot or lawn, just below the terrace where grew the large-leaved plant.  This was evidently their dining-room, for no sooner were they in their place than butterflies of every kind and colour came pouring in, in masses, from all directions.  Butterflies small and butterflies large; butterflies light and butterflies dark; butterflies blue, pink, crimson, green, gold-colour—­every colour, and far, far more colours than you could possibly imagine.

They all settled down, round the sides of the grassy dining-table, and in another minute a number of small white butterflies appeared, carrying among them flower petals carefully rolled up, each containing a drop of liquid.  One of these was presented to the king, and then one to the queen, who each sniffed at their petal for an instant, and then passed it on to the butterfly next them, whereupon fresh petals were handed to them, which they again passed on.