And at last, all of a sudden, the song came to an end.
"Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" rang out three times, clear and shrill.

The cuckoo flapped his wings, made a bow to the mandarins, and retired to his old corner.
There was no buzz of talk, as is usual after a performance has come to a close, but there was a great buzz of nodding, and Griselda, wishing to give the cuckoo as much praise as she could, nodded as hard as any of them.

The cuckoo really looked quite shy at receiving so much applause.
But in a minute or two the music struck up and the dancing began again--one, two, three: it seemed a sort of mazurka this time, which suited the mandarins very well, as it gave them a chance of nodding to mark the time.
Griselda had once learnt the mazurka, so she got on even better than before--only she would have liked it more if her shoes had had sharper toes; they looked so stumpy when she tried to point them.

All the same, it was very good fun, and she was not too well pleased when she suddenly felt the little sharp tap of the cuckoo on her head, and heard him whisper-- "Griselda, it's time to go." "Oh dear, why ?" she asked.

"I'm not a bit tired.