you like; you're not like a real bird. Of course, you were just tricking me, sitting out there and pretending to be a starved robin."
There was a little indignation in her voice, and she gave her head a toss, which nearly upset the cuckoo.
"Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed the cuckoo "You have a great deal to complain of, Griselda. Your time and strength must be very valuable for you to regret so much having wasted a little of them on me."
Griselda felt her face grow red. What did he mean? Did he know how yesterday had been spent? She said nothing, but she drooped her head, and one or two tears came slowly creeping up to her eyes.
"Child!" said the cuckoo, suddenly changing his tone, "you are very foolish. Is a kind thought or action ever wasted? Can your eyes see what such good seeds grow into? They have wings,
