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. They seem to be nibbling at the flowers, and then flying away, something like bees gathering honey. Butterflies don't gather honey, cuckoo?"
"No," said the cuckoo. "They are filling their paint-boxes."
