Are you comfortable now? And,
by-the-by, as you may be cold, just feel under my left wing. You'll find
the feather mantle there, that you had on once before. Wrap it round
you. I tucked it in at the last moment, thinking you might want it."

"Oh, you dear, kind cuckoo!" cried Griselda. "Yes, I've found it. I'll
tuck it all round me like a rug--that's it. I _am_ so warm now, cuckoo."

"Here goes, then," said the cuckoo, and off they set. Had ever a little
girl such a flight before? Floating, darting, gliding, sailing--no words
can describe it. Griselda lay still in delight, gazing all about her.

"How lovely the stars are, cuckoo!" she said. "Is it true they're all
great, big _suns_? I'd rather they weren't. I like to think of them as
nice, funny little things."

"They're not all suns," said the cuckoo. "Not all those you're looking
at now."

"I like the twinkling ones best," said Griselda. "They look so
good-natured. Are they _all_ twirling about always, cuckoo? Mr.
Kneebreeches has just begun to teach me astronomy, and _he_ says they
are; but I'm not at all sure that he knows much about it."

"He's quite right all the same," replied the cuckoo.

"Oh dear me! How tired they must be, then!" said Griselda. "Do they
never rest just for a minute?"

"Never."

"Why not?"

"Obeying orders," replied the cuckoo.

Griselda gave a little wriggle.

"What's the use of it?" she said. "It would be just as nice if they
stood still now and then."

"Would it?" said the cuckoo. "I know some body who would soon find
fault if they did. What would you say to no summer; no day, or no night,
whichever it happened not to be, you see; nothing growing, and nothing
to eat before long? That's what it would be if they stood still, you
see, because----"

"Thank you, cuckoo," interrupted Griselda. "It's very nice to hear
you--I mean, very dreadful to think of, but I don't want you to explain.
I'll ask Mr. Kneebreeches when I'm at my lessons. You might tell me one
thing, however. What's at the other side of the moon?"

"There's a variety of opinions," said the cuckoo.

"What are they? Tell me the funniest."

"Some say all the unfinished work of the world is kept there," said the
cuckoo.

"_That's_ not funny," said Griselda. "What a messy place it must be!
Why, even _my_ unfinished work makes quite a heap. I don't like that
opinion at all, cuckoo. Tell me another."

"I _have_ heard," said the cuckoo, "that among the places there