“So-ho!” roared the monarch.  “You thought you could defy me, Earth Clod, did you?  But you were mistaken.  No one can resist the Mighty Boolooroo of the Blues, so it is folly for you to rebel against my commands.  Hold him fast, my men, and as soon as I’ve had my coffee and oatmeal I’ll take him to the Room of the Great Knife and patch him.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cup o’ coffee myself,” said Cap’n Bill.  “I’ve had consid’ble exercise this mornin’, and I’m all ready for breakfas’.”

“Very well,” replied the Boolooroo, “you shall eat with me, for then I can keep an eye on you.  My guards are not to be trusted, and I don’t mean to let you out of my sight again until you are patched.”

So Cap’n Bill and the Boolooroo had breakfast together, six Blueskins standing in a row back of the sailorman to grab him if he attempted to escape.  But Cap’n Bill made no such attempt, knowing it would be useless.

Trot was in the room, too, standing in a corner and listening to all that was said while she racked her little brain for an idea that would enable her to save Cap’n Bill from being patched.  No one could see her, so no one—­not even Cap’n Bill—­knew she was there.

After breakfast was over, a procession was formed, headed by the Boolooroo, and they marched the prisoner through the palace until they came to the Room of the Great Knife.  Invisible Trot followed soberly after them, still wondering what she could do to save her friend.

As soon as they entered the Room of the great Knife, the Boolooroo gave a yell of disappointment.

“What’s become of Tiggle?” he shouted.  “Where’s Tiggle?  Who has released Tiggle?  Go at once, you dummies, and find him, or it will go hard with you!”

The frightened soldiers hurried away to find Tiggle, and Trot was well pleased because she knew Tiggle was by this time safely hidden.

The Boolooroo stamped up and down the room, muttering threats and declaring Cap’n Bill should be punished whether Tiggle was found or not, and while they waited, Trot took time to make an inspection of the place, which she now saw for the first time in broad daylight.

The Room of the Great Knife was high and big, and around it ran rows of benches for the spectators to sit upon.  In one place at the head of the room was a raised platform for the royal family, with elegant throne-chairs for the King and Queen and six smaller but richly upholstered chairs for the Snubnosed Princesses.  The poor Queen, by the way, was seldom seen, as she passed all her time playing solitaire with a deck that was one card short, hoping that before she had lived her entire six hundred years she would win the game.  Therefore, her Majesty paid no attention to anyone and no one paid any attention to her.