The sun was high in the sky just now, which proved the adventurers had been a long time in passing through the Fog Bank.  But all of them were wonderfully relieved to reach this beautiful country in safety, for aside from the danger that threatened them in the Blue Country, the other side of the island was very depressing.  Here the scene that confronted them was pretty and homelike, except for the prevailing color and the fact that all the buildings were round, without a single corner or angle.

Half a mile distant was a large City, its pink tintings glistening bravely in the pink sunshine, while hundreds of pink banners floated from its numerous domes.  The country between the Fog Bank and the city was like a vast garden, very carefully kept and as neat as wax.

The parrot was fluttering its wings and pruning its feathers to remove the wet of the fog.  Trot and Button-Bright and Cap’n Bill were all soaked to the skin and chilled through, but as they sat upon the pink grass they felt the rays of the sun sending them warmth and rapidly drying their clothes; so, being tired out, they laid themselves comfortably down and first one and then another fell cozily asleep.

It was the parrot that aroused them.

“Look out—­look out—­
There’s folks about!”

it screamed.

“The apple-dumplings, fat and pink, Will be here quicker than a wink!”

Trot stared up in alarm and rubbed her eyes; Cap’n Bill rolled over and blinked, hardly remembering where he was; Button-Bright was on his feet in an instant.  Advancing toward them were four of the natives of the Pink Country.

Two were men and two were women, and their appearance was in sharp contrast to that of the Blueskins.  For the Pinkies were round and chubby—­almost like “apple-dumplings,” as the parrot called them—­and they were not very tall, the highest of the men being no taller than Trot or Button-Bright.  They all had short necks and legs, pink hair and eyes, rosy cheeks and pink complexions, and their faces were good-natured and jolly in expression.

The men wore picturesque pink clothing and round hats with pink feathers in them, but the apparel of the women was still more gorgeous and striking.  Their dresses consisted of layer after layer of gauzy tuck and ruffles and laces, caught here and there with bows of dainty ribbon.  The skirts—­which of course were of many shades of pink—­were so fluffy and light that they stuck out from the fat bodies of the Pinkie women like the skirts of ballet-dancers, displaying their chubby pink ankles and pink kid shoes.  They wore rings and necklaces and bracelets and brooches of rose-gold set with pink gems, and all four of the new arrivals, both men and women, carried sharp-pointed sticks made of rosewood for weapons.

They halted a little way from our adventurers, and one of the women muttered in a horrified voice, “Blueskins!”

“Guess again!  The more you guess
I rather think you’ll know the less,”