d it she never knew; but, somehow or other, it _was_
managed. She seemed to slide up the chain just as easily as in a general
way she would have slidden down, only without any disagreeable
anticipation of a bump at the end of the journey. And when she got to
the top how wonderfully different it looked from anything she could have
expected! The doors stood open, and Griselda found them quite big
enough, or herself quite small enough--which it was she couldn't tell,
and as it was all a matter of fancy she decided not to trouble to
inquire--to pass through quite comfortably.

And inside there was the most charming little snuggery imaginable. It
was something like a saloon railway carriage--it seemed to be all lined
and carpeted and everything, with rich mossy red velvet; there was a
little round table in the middle and two arm-chairs, on one of which sat
the cuckoo--"quite like other people," thought Griselda to
herself--while the other, as he pointed out to Griselda by a little nod,
was evidently intended for her.

"Thank you," said she, sitting down on the chair as she spoke.

"Are you comfortable?" inquired the cuckoo.

"Quite," replied Griselda, looking about her with great satisfaction.
"Are all cuckoo clocks like this when you get up inside them?" she
inquired. "I can't think how there's room for this dear little place
between the clock and the wall. Is it a hole cut out of the wall on
purpose, cuckoo?"

"Hush!" said the cuckoo, "we've got other things to talk about. First,
shall I lend you one of my mantles? You may feel cold."

"I don't just now," replied Griselda; "but perhaps I _might_."

She looked at her little bare feet as she spoke, and wondered why _they_
weren't cold, for it was very chilblainy weather.

The cuckoo stood up, and with one of his claws reached from a corner
where it was hanging a cloak which Griselda had not before noticed. For
it was hanging wrong side out, and the lining was red velvet, very like
what the sides of the little room were covered with, so it was no wonder
she had not noticed it.

Had it been hanging the _right_ side out she must have done so; this
side was so very wonderful!

It was all feathers--feathers of every shade and colour, but
beautifully worked in, somehow, so as to lie quite smoothly and evenly,
one colour melting away into another like those in a prism, so that you
could hardly tell where one began and another ended.

"What a _lovely_ cloak!" said Grise