"I doubt it," said the cuckoo. "Some may have been, but not lots. And some may have thought they had been there who hadn't really been there at all. And as to those who have been there, you may be sure of one thing—they were not taken, they found their own way. No one ever was taken to fairyland—to the real fairyland. They may have been taken to the neighbouring countries, but not to fairyland itself."
"And how is one ever to find one's own way there?" asked Griselda.
"That I cannot tell you either," replied the cuckoo. "There are many roads there; you may find yours some day. And if ever you do find it, be sure you keep what you see of it well swept and clean, and then you may
see further after a while. Ah, yes, there are many roads and many doors into fairyland!"
"Doors!" cried Griselda. "Are there any doors into fairyland in this house?"
"Several," said the cuckoo; "but don't waste your time looking for them at present. It would be no use."
"Then how will you amuse me?" inquired Griselda, in a rather disappointed tone.
"Don't you care to go anywhere except to fairyland?" said the cuckoo.
"Oh yes, there are lots of places I wouldn't mind seeing. Not geography sort of places—it would be just like lessons to go to India and Africa and all those places—but queer places, like the mines where the goblins make diamonds and precious stones, and the caves down under the sea where the mermaids live. And—oh, I've just thought—now I'm so nice and little, I would like to go all over the mandarins' palace in the great saloon."
"That can be easily managed," said the