Do you think
it's a fairy country, Trot?"
"Can't say, I'm sure," she answered. "I haven't seen anything here
yet that reminds me of fairies, but Cap'n Bill said a floating
island in the sky was sure to be a fairyland."
"I think so yet, mate," returned the sailor. "But there's all sorts
o' fairies, I've heard. Some is good, an' some is bad, an' if all
the Blueskins are like their Boolooroo, they can't be called
fust-class."
"Don't let me hear any more impudence, prisoners!" called the
Boolooroo sternly. "You are already condemned to severe punishment,
and if I have any further trouble with you, you are liable to be
patched."
"What's being patched?" inquired the girl.
The soldiers all laughed at this question, but the King did not
reply. Just then a door in the palace opened and out trooped a group
of girls. There were six of them, all gorgeously dressed in silken
gowns with many puffs and tucks and ruffles and flounces and laces
and ribbons, everything being in some shade of blue, grading from
light blue to deep blue. Their blue hair was elaborately dressed and
came to a point at the top of their heads. The girls approached in a
line along the garden path, all walking with mincing steps and
holding their chins high. Their skirts prevented their long legs
from appearing as grotesque as did those of the men, but their necks
were so thin and long that the ruffles around them only made them
seem the more absurd.
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