"Open your eyes and clamber down off my back, but don't speak loud, or you'll waken him, and that wouldn't do.

There you are--the moonlight's coming in nicely at the window--you can see your way." Griselda found herself in a little bedroom, quite a tiny one, and by the look of the simple furniture and the latticed window, she saw that she was not in a grand house.

But everything looked very neat and nice, and on a little bed in one corner lay a lovely sleeping child.

It was Phil! He looked so pretty asleep--his shaggy curls all tumbling about, his rosy mouth half open as if smiling, one little hand tossed over his head, the other tight clasping a little basket which he had insisted on taking to bed with him, meaning as soon as he was dressed the next morning to run out and fill it with flowers for the little girl he had made friends with.
Griselda stepped up to the side of the bed on tiptoe.

The cuckoo had disappeared, but Griselda heard his voice.