“You’re right, Cap’n,” she returned.  “I’ll have ’Sizzle make a fine yard for the goat, where he’ll have plenty of blue grass to eat.  An’ I’ll have a pretty fence put around it an’ make all the people honor an’ respec’ him jus’ as long as he lives.”

“I’ll gladly do that,” promised the new Boolooroo, “and I’ll feed the honorable goat all the shavings and leather and tin cans he can eat, besides the grass.  He’ll be the happiest goat in Sky Island, I assure you.”

As they led the now-famous animal from the room, the Boolooroo shuddered and said, “How dare you people give orders in my palace?  I’m the Boolooroo!”

“’Scuse me,” said Trot.  “I neglected to tell you that you’re not the Boolooroo any more.  We’ve got the Royal Record Book, an’ it proves you’ve already ruled this country longer than you had any right to.  ‘Sides all that, I’m the Queen o’ Sky Island—­which means Queen o’ the Pinkies an’ Queen o’ the Blues, both of ’em.  So things are run as I say, an’ I’ve made Ghip-Ghisizzle Boolooroo in your place.  He’ll look after this end of the Island hereafter, an’ unless I’m much mistaken, he’ll do it a heap better than you did.”

The former Boolooroo groaned.  “What’s going to become of me, then?” he asked.  “Am I to be patched, or what?”

“You won’t be hurt,” answered the girl, “but you’ll have to find some other place to stay besides this palace, an’ perhaps you’ll enjoy workin’ for a livin’ by way of variety.”

“Can’t I take any of the treasure with me?” he pleaded.

“Not even a bird cage,” said she.  “Ever’thing in the palace now belongs to Ghip-Ghisizzle.”

“Except the Six Snubnosed Princesses,” exclaimed the new Boolooroo earnestly.  “Won’t you please get rid of them, too, your Majesty?  Can’t they be discharged?”

“Of course,” said Trot.  “They must go with their dear father an’ mother.  Isn’t there some house in the City they can all live in, Ghip?”

“Why, I own a little cabin at the end of the town,” said Ghip-Ghisizzle, “and I’ll let them use that, as I won’t need it any longer.  It isn’t a very pretty cabin, and the furniture is cheap and common, but I’m sure it is good enough for this wicked man and his family.”

“I’ll not be wicked any more,” sighed the old Boolooroo.  “I’ll reform.  It’s always best to reform when it is no longer safe to remain wicked.  As a private citizen, I shall be a model of deportment, because it would be dangerous to be otherwise.”

Trot now sent for the Princesses, who had been weeping and wailing and fighting among themselves ever since they learned that their father had been conquered.  When first they entered the throne room, they tried to be as haughty and scornful as ever, but the Blues who were assembled there all laughed at them and jeered them, for there was not a single person in all the Blue Country who loved the Princesses the least little bit.

Trot told the girls that they must go with their father to live in Ghip-Ghisizzle’s little old cabin, and when they heard this dreadful decree, the six snubnosed ones began to scream and have hysterics, and between them they managed to make so much noise that no one could hear anything else.  So Ghip-Ghisizzle ordered the Captain to take a file of soldiers and escort the raving beauties to their new home.