cuckoo; "but—excuse me for an instant," he exclaimed suddenly. He gave a spring forward and disappeared. Then Griselda heard his voice outside the doors, "Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo." It was three o'clock.
The doors opened again to let him through, and he re-settled himself on his chair. "As I was saying," he went on, "nothing could be easier. But that palace, as you call it, has an entrance on the other side, as well as the one you know."
"Another door, do you mean?" said Griselda. "How funny! Does it go through the wall? And where does it lead to?"
"It leads," replied the cuckoo, "it leads to the country of the Nodding Mandarins."
"What fun!" exclaimed Griselda, clapping her hands. "Cuckoo, do let us go there. How can we get down? You can fly, but must I slide down the chain again?"
"Oh dear, no," said the cuckoo, "by no means. You have only to stretch out your feather mantle, flap it as if it was wings—
so"—he flapped his own wings encouragingly—"wish, and there you'll be."
"Where?" said Griselda bewilderedly.
"Wherever you wish to be, of course," said the cuckoo. "Are you ready? Here goes."
"Wait—wait a moment," cried Griselda. "Where am I to wish to be?"