Now may I run about and look at everything?
How delicious it is to feel the warm sunshine again! I didn't know how cold I was.

Look, cuckoo, my toes and fingers are quite blue; they're only just beginning to come right again.
I suppose the sun always shines here.

How nice it must be to be a butterfly; don't you think so, cuckoo?
Nothing to do but fly about." She stopped at last, quite out of breath.
"Griselda," said the cuckoo, "if you want me to answer your questions, you must ask them one at a time.

You may run about and look at everything if you like, but you had better not be in such a hurry.

You will make a great many mistakes if you are--you have made some already." "How ?" said Griselda.
"_Have_ the butterflies nothing to do but fly about?
Watch them." Griselda watched.
"They do seem to be doing something," she said, at last, "but I can't think what.