The open space which they entered was paved with pink marble, and
around it were two rows of large, pink statues, at least life-size
and beautifully sculptured. All were set upon nicely carved pink
pedestals. They were, of course, statues of Pinky men and women, and
all had bands of pink metal around their foreheads, in the center of
each band being a glistening pink jewel.

About the middle of the open space inside the statues, which
appeared to be the public meeting place of the Pinkies, was a small,
low house, domed like all the other houses but built of a coarse
pink stone instead of the fine marble to be seen everywhere else. It
had no ornamentation, being exceedingly plain in appearance. No
banners floated from it; no flowers grew near it.

"Here," said one of their guides as the procession halted before the
little stone building, "is the palace of Tourmaline, who is our
Queen."

"What, that little cabin?" exclaimed Trot.

"Of course. Did you suppose a palace would be like one of our
handsome residences?" asked the woman, evidently surprised.

"I thought it would be better," said the girl. "All the palaces I've
seen were splendid."

"A splendid palace!" exclaimed one of the Pinkies, and then they