were splendid."

"A splendid palace!" exclaimed one of the Pinkies, and then they looked
at one another in amazement and seemed to doubt that their ears had
heard aright.

"These intruders are very peculiar people," remarked a man in the crowd.

"They seem very ignorant, poor things!" said another in reply.

"Come!" commanded the woman who led the party. "You three must follow
me to the presence of Tourmaline. The people must wait outside, for
there is no room for them in the palace."

So they followed her through the low archway, and in a room beyond,
very simply furnished, sat a young girl engaged in darning a pair of
pink stockings. She was a beautiful girl of about seventeen years of
age, not fat like all the rest of the Pinkies but slender and well
formed according to our own ideas of beauty. Her complexion was not a
decided pink, but a soft, rosy tint not much deeper than that of Trot's
skin. Instead of a silken gown furbelowed like all the others they had
seen women wear in this land, Tourmaline was dressed in a severely
plain robe of coarse pink cloth much resembling bedticking. Across her
brow, however, was a band of rose gold, in the center of which was set
a luminous pink jewel which gleamed more brilliantly than a diamond. It
was her badge of office and seemed very incongruous when compared with
her poor rainment and simple surroundings.

As they entered, the girl sighed and laid down her work. Her expression
was patient and resigned as she faced her audience. "What is it,
Coralie?" she asked the woman.

"Here are three strange people, Tourmaline," was the reply, "who say
they have entered our country through the Fog Bank. They tell a queer
story of an escape from the Blueskins, so I decided to bring them to
you, that you may determine their fate."

The Queen gazed upon our friends with evident interest. She smiled--a
little sadly--at Trot, seemed to approve Button-Bright's open, frank
face, and was quite surprised because Cap'n Bill was so much bigger
than her own people. "Are you a giant?" she asked the sailor in a soft,
sweet voice.

"No, your Majesty," he replied, "I'm only--"

"Majesty!" she exclaimed, flushing a deeper pink. "Are you addressing
that word to me?"

"O' course, ma'am," answered Cap'n Bill. "I'm told that's the proper
way to speak to a Queen."

"Perhaps you are trying to ridicule me," she continued, regarding the
sailor's face closely. "There is nothing majestic about me, as