There, now." Griselda did as she was told.

She was beginning to feel rather tired, and it certainly was very comfortable at the bottom of the boat, with the nice warm feather-mantle well tucked round her.
"Who will row ?" she said sleepily.

"_You_ can't, cuckoo, with your tiny little claws, you could never hold the oars, I'm----" "Hush!" said the cuckoo; and whether he rowed or not Griselda never knew.
Off they glided somehow, but it seemed to Griselda that _somebody_ rowed, for she heard the soft dip, dip of the oars as they went along, so regularly that she couldn't help beginning to count in time--one, two, three, four--on, on--she thought she had got nearly to a hundred, when----.