The open space which they entered was paved with pink marble, and
around it were two rows of large, pink statues, at least life-size and
beautifully sculptured. All were set upon nicely carved pink pedestals.
They were, of course, statues of Pinky men and women, and all had bands
of pink metal around their foreheads, in the center of each band being
a glistening pink jewel.
About the middle of the open space inside the statues, which appeared
to be the public meeting place of the Pinkies, was a small, low house,
domed like all the other houses but built of a coarse pink stone
instead of the fine marble to be seen everywhere else. It had no
ornamentation, being exceedingly plain in appearance. No banners
floated from it; no flowers grew near it.
"Here," said one of their guides as the procession halted before the
little stone building, "is the palace of Tourmaline, who is our Queen."
"What, that little cabin?" exclaimed Trot.
"Of course. Did you suppose a palace would be like one of our handsome
residences?" asked the woman, evidently surprised.
"I thought it would be better," said the girl. "All the palaces I've
seen 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 you know
very well. Coralie, do you consider 'majesty' a proper word to use when
addressing a Queen?" she added, appealing to the Pinky woman.
"By no means," was the prompt reply.
"What shall I call her, then?" inquired Cap'n Bill.
"Just Tourmaline. That is her name, and it is sufficient," said the
woman.
"The Ruler of a country ought to be treated with great respec',"
declared Trot a little indignantly, for she thought the pretty little
queen was not being properly deferred to.
"Why?" asked Tourmaline curiously.
"Because the Ruler is the mos' 'risticratic person in any land,"
explained the little girl. "Even in America ever'body bows low to our
President, an' the Blueskins are so 'fraid o' their Boolooroo that they
tremble whenever they go near him."
"But surely that is all wrong," said Tourmaline gravely. "The Ruler is
appointed to protect and serve the people, and here in the Pink Country
I have the full power to carry out the laws. I even decree death when
such a punishment is merited. Therefore I am a mere agent to direct the
laws, which are the Will of the People, and am only a public servant
obliged constantly to guard the welfare of my subjects."
"In that case," said Button-Bright, "you're entitled to the best there
is to pay for your trouble. A powerful ruler ought to be rich and to
live in a splendid palace. Your folks ought to treat you with great
respect, as Trot says."
"Oh no," responded Tourmaline quickly. "That would indeed be very
wrong. Too much should never be given to anyone. If, with my great
power, conferred upon me by the people, I also possessed great wealth,
I might be tempted to be cruel and overbearing. In that case my
subjects would justly grow envious of my superior station. If I lived
as luxuriously as my people do and had servants and costly gowns, the
good Pinkies would say that their Queen had more than they themselves,
and it would be true. No, our way is best. The Ruler, be it king or
queen, has absolute power to rule, but no riches, no high station, no
false adulation. The people have the wealth and honor, for it is their
due. The Queen has nothing but the power to execute the laws, to adjust
grievances and to compel order."
"What pays you, then, for all your bother?" asked Trot.
"I have one great privilege. After my death a pink marble statue of me
will be set up in the Grand Court, with the statues of the other Kings
and Queens who have ruled this land, and all the Pinkies in ages to
come will then honor me as having been a just and upright queen. That
is my reward."
"I'm sorry for you, ma'am," said Cap'n Bill. "Your pay for bein' a
queen is sort o' like a life-insurance. If don't come due till after
you're dead, an' then you can't get much fun out o' it."
"I did not choose to be the Queen," answered Tourmaline simply. "A
misfortune of birth placed me here, and I cannot escape my fate. It is
much more desirable to be a private citizen, happy and carefree. But we
have talked long enough of myself. Tell me who you are, and why you
have come here."
Between them they told the story of how the Magic Umbrella had taken
them to Sky Island, which they did not know when they started was
anywhere in existence. Button-Bright told this, and then Trot related
their adventures among the Blueskins and how the Boolooroo had stolen
the umbrella and prevented them from going home again. The parrot on
her shoulder kept interrupting her continually, for the mention of the
Boolooroo seemed to make the bird frantic with rage.
"Naughty, naughty Boolooroo!
He's the worst I ever knew!"
the parrot repeated over and over again.
Cap'n Bill finished the story by telling of their escape through the
Fog Bank. "We didn't know what your Pink Country was like, o' course,"
he said, "but we knew it couldn't be worse than the Blue Country, an'
we didn't take any stock in their stories that the Fog Bank would be
the death o' us."
"Pretty wet! Pretty wet
Was the journey, you can bet!"
declared the parrot in conclusion.
"Yes, it was wet an' sticky, all right," agreed the sailor, "but the
big frog helped us an' we got through all right."
"But what can you do here?" asked Tourmaline. "You are not like my
people, the Pinkies, and there is no place for you in our country."
"That's true enough," said Cap'n Bill, "but we had to go somewhere, an'
this was the likeliest place we could think of. Your Sky Island ain't
very big, so when we couldn't stay in the Blue Country, where ever'body
hated us, or in the Fog Bank, which ain't healthy an' is too wet for
humans to live in for long, we nat'rally were forced to enter the Pink
Country, where we expected to find nice people."
"We ARE nice," said Tourmaline, "but it is our country, not yours, and
we have no place here for strangers. In all our history you are the
first people from outside our borders who have ever stepped a foot in
our land. We do not hate you, as you say the Blueskins do, nor are we
savage or cruel, but we do not want you here, and I am really puzzled
what to do with you."
"Isn't there a law to cover this case?" asked Coralie.
"I do not remember any such law," replied the queen, "but I will search
in the Great Book and see if I can find anything that refers to strange
people entering our land."
"If not," said the woman, "you must make a law. It is your duty."
"I know," answered Tourmaline, "but I hope such a responsibility will
not fall upon my shoulders. These poor strangers are in a very
uncomfortable position, and I wish I could help them to get back to
their own country."
"Thank you," said Trot. "We wish so, too. Haven't you any fairies here?"
"Oh, there are fairies, of course, as there are everywhere," answered
Tourmaline, "but none that we can call to our assistance or command to
do our bidding."
"How about witches?" asked Button-Bright.
"I know of one witch," said Tourmaline thoughtfully, "but she is not
very obliging. She says it makes her head ache to perform witchcraft,
and so she seldom indulges in it. But if there is no other way, I may
be obliged to call upon Rosalie for help. I'll look in the Great Book
first. Meantime, you will go home with Coralie, who will feed you and
give you entertainment. Tomorrow morning come to me again and then I
will decree your fate." The little queen then picked up her stocking
and began to darn the holes in it, and Coralie, without any formal
parting, led the strangers from the miserable palace.
THE SUNRISE TRIBE AND THE SUNSET TRIBE