damaged petal they repair, or touch up a faded tint, though no
one ever knows it."

"_I_ know it now," said Griselda. "I will never talk about idle
butterflies again--never. But, cuckoo, do they paint all the flowers
_here_, too? What a _fearful_ lot they must have to do!"

"No," said the cuckoo; "the flowers down here are fairy flowers. They
never fade or die, they are always just as you see them. But the colours
of your flowers are all taken from them, as you have seen. Of course
they don't look the same up there," he went on, with a slight
contemptuous shrug of his cuckoo shoulders; "the coarse air and the ugly
things about must take the bloom off. The wild flowers do the best, to
my thinking; people don't meddle with them in their stupid, clumsy way."

"But how do they get the flowers sent up to the world, cuckoo?" asked
Griselda.

"They're packed up, of course, and taken up at night when all of you are
asleep," said the cuckoo. "They're painted on elastic stuff, you see,
which fits itself as the plant grows. Why, if your eyes were as they are
usually, Griselda, you couldn't even _see_ the petals the butterflies
are painting now."

"And the packing up," said Griselda; "do the butterflies do that too?"

"No," said the cuckoo, "the fairies look after that."

"How wonderful!" exclaimed Griselda. But before the cuckoo had time to
say more a sudden tumult filled the air. It was butterfly dinner-time!

"Are you hungry, Griselda?" said the cuckoo.

"Not so very," replied Griselda.

"It's just as well perhaps that you're not," he remarked, "for I don't
know that you'd be much the better for dinner here."

"Why not?" inquired Griselda curiously. "What do they have for dinner?
Honey? I like that very well, spread on the top of bread-and-butter, of
course--I don't think I should care to eat it alone."

"You won't get any honey," the cuckoo was beginning; but he was
interrupted. Two handsome butterflies flew into the great glass hall,
and making straight for the cuckoo, alighted on his shoulders. They
fluttered about him for a minute or two, evidently rather excited about
something, then flew away again, as suddenly as they had appeared.

"Those were royal messengers," said the cuckoo, turning to Griselda.
"They have come with a message from the king and queen to invite us to a
banquet which is to be held in honour of your visit."

"What fun!" cried Griselda. "Do let's go at once, cuckoo. But, oh dear
me," she