Are you all right?" he inquired. "You're not afraid of falling off?"

"Oh no," said Griselda; "not a bit."

"You needn't be," said the cuckoo, "for you couldn't if you tried. I'm
going on, then."

"Where to?" said Griselda.

"Up the chimney first," said the cuckoo.

"But there'll never be room," said Griselda. "I might _perhaps_ crawl up
like a sweep, hands and knees, you know, like going up a ladder. But
stretched out like this--it's just as if I were lying on a sofa--I
_couldn't_ go up the chimney."

"Couldn't you?" said the cuckoo. "We'll see. _I_ intend to go, any way,
and to take you with me. Shut your eyes--one, two, three--here
goes--we'll be up the chimney before you know."

It was quite true. Griselda shut her eyes tight. She felt nothing but a
pleasant sort of rush. Then she heard the cuckoo's voice, saying--

"Well, wasn't that well done? Open your eyes and look about you."

Griselda did so. Where were they?

They were floating about above the top of the house, which Griselda saw
down below them, looking dark and vast. She felt confused and
bewildered.

"Cuckoo," she said, "I don't understand. Is it I that have grown little,
or you that have grown big?"

"Whichever you please," said the cuckoo. "You have forgotten. I told you
long ago it is all a matter of fancy."

"Yes, if everything grew little _together_," persisted Griselda; "but it
isn't everything. It's just you or me, or both of us. No, it can't be
both of us. And I don't think it can be me, for if any of me had grown
little all would, and my eyes haven't grown little, for everything looks
as big as usual, only _you_ a great deal bigger. My eyes can't have
grown bigger without the rest of me, surely, for the moon looks just the
same. And I must have grown little, or else we couldn't have got up the
chimney. Oh, cuckoo, you have put all my thinking into such a muddle!"

"Never mind," said the cuckoo. "It'll show you how little consequence
big and little are of. Make yourself comfortable all the same. Are you
all right? Shut your eyes if you like. I'm going pretty fast."

"Where to?" said Griselda.

"To Phil, of course," said the cuckoo. "What a bad memory you have! Are
you comfortable?"

"_Very_, thank you," replied Griselda, giving the cuckoo's neck an
affectionate hug as she spoke.

"That'll do, thank you. Don't throttle me, if it's quite the same to
you," said the cuckoo. "Here goes--one, two, three," and off he flew
again.