iselda waited, looking still, and presently in the middle of the
shining streak she saw something slowly moving--something from which the
light came, for the nearer it got to her the shorter grew the glowing
path, and behind the moving object the sea looked no brighter than
before it had appeared.

At last--at last, it came quite near--near enough for Griselda to
distinguish clearly what it was.

It was a little boat--the prettiest, the loveliest little boat that ever
was seen; and it was rowed by a little figure that at first sight
Griselda felt certain was a fairy. For it was a child with bright hair
and silvery wings, which with every movement sparkled and shone like a
thousand diamonds.

Griselda sprang up and clapped her hands with delight. At the sound, the
child in the boat turned and looked at her. For one instant she could
not remember where she had seen him before; then she exclaimed,
joyfully--

"It is Phil! Oh, cuckoo, it is Phil. Have you turned into a fairy,
Phil?"

But, alas, as she spoke the light faded away, the boy's figure
disappeared, the sea and the shore and the sky were all as they had been
before, lighted only by the faint, strange gleaming of the stars. Only
the boat remained. Griselda saw it close to her, in the shallow water, a
few feet from where she stood.

"Cuckoo," she exclaimed in a tone of reproach and disappointment, "where
is Phil gone? Why did you send him away?"

"I didn't send him away," said the cuckoo. "You don't understand. Never
mind, but get into the boat. It'll be all right, you'll see."

"But are we to go away and leave Phil here, all alone at the other side
of the moon?" said Griselda, feeling ready to cry.

"Oh, you silly girl!" said the cuckoo. "Phil's all right, and in some
ways he has a great deal more sense than you, I can tell you. Get into
the boat and make yourself comfortable; lie down at the bottom and cover
yourself up with the mantle. You needn't be afraid of wetting your feet
a little, moon water never gives cold. There, now."

Griselda did as she was told. She was beginning to feel rather tired,
and it certainly was very comfortable at the bottom of the boat, with
the nice warm feather-mantle well tucked round her.

"Who will row?" she said sleepily. "_You_ can't, cuckoo, with your tiny
little claws, you could never hold the oars, I'm----"

"Hush!" said the cuckoo; and whether he rowed or not Griselda never
knew.

Off they glided somehow, but i