The Boolooroo and his Queen and daughters—­the Six Snubnosed Princesses—­dined in formal state in the Banquet Hall, where they were waited upon by favorite soldiers of the Royal Bodyguard.  Here in the servants’ hall there was one vacant seat next to Button-Bright which was reserved for Trot; but the little girl had not yet appeared, and the sailorman and the boy were beginning to be uneasy about her.

THE TRIBULATION OF TROT

CHAPTER 9

The apartments occupied by the Six Snubnosed Princesses were so magnificent that when Trot first entered them, led by her haughty captors, she thought they must be the most beautiful rooms in the world.  There was a long and broad reception room, with forty-seven windows in it, and opening out of it were six lovely bedchambers, each furnished in the greatest luxury.  Adjoining each sleeping room was a marble bath, and each Princess had a separate boudoir and a dressing room.  The furnishings were of the utmost splendor, blue-gold and blue gems being profusely used in the decorations, while the divans and chairs were of richly carved bluewood upholstered in blue satins and silks.  The draperies were superbly embroidered, and the rugs upon the marble floors were woven with beautiful scenes in every conceivable shade of blue.

When they first reached the reception room, Princess Azure cast herself upon a divan while her five sisters sat or reclined in easy chairs with their heads thrown back and their blue chins scornfully elevated.  Trot, who was much annoyed at the treatment she had received, did not hesitate to seat herself also in a big easy chair.

“Slave!” cried Princess Cerulia, “Fetch me a mirror.”

“Slave!” cried Princess Turquoise, “A lock of my hair is loosened; bind it up.”

“Slave!” cried Princess Cobalt, “Unfasten my shoes; they’re too tight.”

“Slave!” cried Princess Sapphire, “Bring hither my box of blue chocolates.”

“Slave!” cried Princess Azure, “Stand by my side and fan me.”

“Slave!” cried Princess Indigo, “Get out of that chair.  How dare you sit in our presence?”

“If you’re saying all those things to me,” replied Trot, “you may as well save your breath.  I’m no slave.”  And she cuddled down closer in the chair.

“You are a slave!” shouted the six all together.

“I’m not!”

“Our father, the Revered and Resplendent Royal Ruler of the Blues, has made you our slave,” asserted Indigo with a yawn.

“But he can’t,” objected the little girl.  “I’m some Royal an’ Rapturous an’ Ridic’lous myself, an’ I won’t allow any cheap Boolooroo to order me ’round.”

“Are you of royal birth?” asked Azure, seeming surprised.

“Royal!  Why, I’m an American, Snubnoses, and if there’s anything royaler than an American, I’d like to know what it is.”