There, do you feel me ?" "Yes," said Griselda, stroking gently the soft feathers which seemed to be close under her hand.

"Yes, I feel you." "Well, then," said the cuckoo, "put your arms round my neck, and hold me firm.

I'll lift you up." "How _can_ you talk such nonsense, cuckoo ?" said Griselda.

"Why, one of my little fingers would clasp your neck.

How can I put my arms round it ?" "Try," said the cuckoo.
Somehow Griselda had to try.
She held out her arms in the cuckoo's direction, as if she expected his neck to be about the size of a Shetland pony's, or a large Newfoundland dog's; and, to her astonishment, so it was! A nice, comfortable, feathery neck it felt--so soft that she could not help laying her head down upon it, and nestling in the downy cushion.
"That's right," said the cuckoo.
Then he seemed to give a little spring, and Griselda felt herself altogether lifted on to his back.