They found themselves in a beautiful little bay of a bright green color, fringed all round with neat little, curly, white waves, all exactly four inches high and ten feet apart. "Like rows of tucks round the bottom of a dress," thought Frances.

But the island itself was what most attracted their attention. It was like a Japanese garden, with little green hills and little red footpaths bordered with white shells; with little lakes and little streams and little bridges; it was dotted all about with little houses painted all sorts of bright colors; and there were flowers—flowers everywhere. It was the prettiest place they had ever seen.

From all directions were little people running down to the pier to meet them; the excited dragon was jumping about on top of his tower, bellowing like a whole herd of milk cows at once; while all the dog-fish, with their noses sticking out of the water, came swarming from every direction, barking away—the great alarm of Periwinkle—as loudly as they could, and making such a racket that Margaret and Frances were obliged to put their fingers into their ears for fear of being deafened.

Seeing this, the Admiral jumped out of his chair, waved his arms, and shouted out, "King's guests! King's guests!" Whereupon, all those polite and well-trained dog-fish leaped out of the water, and standing on their heads, wagged their tails in welcome, sending into the air showers of spray which the bright sun turned into dozens and dozens of little rainbows. It was the prettiest thing you ever saw. The little girls were delighted.

By this time the speed of the boat had very much slackened, it was just gliding along with hardly a ripple toward the little wooden pier, painted white with red posts, where the bright-colored little people were standing in groups waiting for them. There were groups of little men and groups of little women and groups of little children, some of them dressed in pink and some in green and some in yellow and some in orange and some in white and some in purple—but not a single one in blue, as Frances was the first to notice.

"Do you see, Margaret?" she whispered. "There isn't one of them dressed in blue. Not one!"

"So there isn't," replied her sister. "I wonder why."

But before she could ask why, the Admiral jumped into the bow of the boat, took off his cocked hat, and waving it above his head, called out again, "King's guests! King's guests!" Upon which all the little people in little shrill voices shouted "Welcome to the King's guests!" and waved their pocket handkerchiefs. It was just as though a flock of pigeons had suddenly flown up out of a flower-bed.

At the same moment the children saw coming down the road a little carriage drawn by two pretty little horses of the color of a new horse-chestnut, with white manes, cut short, and with stiff little white tails like bottle-brushes. The coachman, who sat up very straight and stuck out his elbows with an air of great importance, was dressed in a fuzzy white wig with a three-cornered hat on top of it, a green coat with gold buttons, white knee-breeches and rose-colored stockings. Altogether, he looked very smart indeed, and very well pleased with himself, too, to judge by the way he smiled as he drew up his chubby little horses at the far end of the pier.

For that matter, though, everybody was smiling away in a manner so cheerful that the children thought they had never seen such a merry-looking lot of people, and as smiles are just as catching as whooping cough, Margaret and Frances could not help smiling too; whereupon all the people on the pier smiled twice as much as before and clapped their hands for joy.

"What nice people!" exclaimed Margaret.

"Yes. Aren't you glad we came?" responded her sister. "And such a pretty place, too; and—I wonder who the old gentleman is, coming down to the steps."

In fact, as the boat slowly glided up to the steps at the end of the pier, an old gentleman came forward and took up his position on the top step; all the rest of the people standing back at a respectful distance, forming a half-circle behind him. He was a tall old gentleman—for a Floating Islander—with a head perfectly bald except for a fringe of white hair at the back extending from one ear to the other; wearing a long green cloak with silver willow leaves embroidered round the collar. In one hand he carried a large copper bell, like a cow-bell, and in the other a sheet of parchment with a big red seal hanging to it.

"The Court Crier," explained the Admiral, whispering behind his hand; and as he said it, the boat stopped of its own accord at the bottom step.

As if the stopping of the boat had been the moment he was waiting for, the Court Crier began vigorously ringing his bell; whereupon all the people ceased clapping their hands and stood quiet to hear what the Court Crier might have to say. Even the dragon up on his tower—as the little girls noticed—sat down again on his three-legged stool, and folding two pairs of claws across his stomach, cocked his ears forward to listen.

"Oh, yes! Oh, yes!" called the Court Crier, and after a short pause, finding that nobody cried, "Oh, no!" he hung his bell about his neck, unfolded his parchment, and having first bowed deferentially to the two little girls—who, all this time were sitting in the boat, wondering what was to happen next—he called out:

"Proclamation by the King! 'To Margaret and Frances, Greeting: Coco Bolo, King of the Floating Islands, extends his hearty welcome to Margaret and Frances and begs they will regard as their own his Island, his People, his Dragon and Himself!'"

Having finished his reading, the Court Crier folded up his parchment and put it into his pocket, and then, taking the bell from his neck, he rang it once more. Upon this, all the little people clapped their hands again, the dog-fish barked and the dragon bellowed; at which Margaret and Frances were very glad, for it gave them time to think of a proper reply.

Rising to their feet, and standing side by side in the boat, the two little girls bowed to the Court Crier and the people behind him, when the Court Crier held up his bell, upside-down, above his head, as a sign for all sounds to cease.

Though neither of them had ever attempted to make a speech in their lives, nor had even thought of doing such a thing, the two children, for some reason, did not find themselves at all abashed at having to stand up and deliver a formal reply to the King's proclamation. Perhaps it was that the little people on the pier were so much smaller than themselves; perhaps it was that their brightness and cheerfulness and seeming readiness to be pleased gave the children confidence; but whatever the cause, as soon as the people had ceased clapping their hands and the dog-fish had ceased barking, and as soon as the puppy-fish—which had been larking about according to the nature of all puppies, growling and splashing and biting each other's tails—as soon as they had been slapped by their elders and told to keep quiet, Margaret made another polite bow, and said:

"Thank you, Mr. Court Crier. We are very much obliged to you; and we are very much obliged to Coco Bolo Rex for inviting us to come, and we are quite sure we shall enjoy ourselves."

"And," added Frances, "we never saw such a pretty place or such nice, smiling people before."

These speeches evidently pleased the people very much, for they all clapped their hands once more; and while they were doing so, the Admiral and the Crew, jumping out of the boat, offered their hands to Margaret and Frances to help them ashore.

No sooner had they set foot on the bottom step than there came running out of the crowd two pretty little boys, one carrying a great bunch of violets and the other a bunch of daffodils. The violets were evidently intended for Margaret and the daffodils for Frances, but unfortunately, just as he reached the top step, Margaret's little boy caught his toe and down he fell, all down the steps, making a great clatter, and into the water he would certainly have rolled had not Margaret caught him, when, putting her foot on the next step above, she set him upon her knee.

"Oh, you poor little boy!" she exclaimed. "You did hurt yourself, didn't you?"

"Don't cry, Dearie," said Frances, bending over him with her handkerchief in her hand, all ready to dry his tears. She made sure he would cry tremendously; for what little boy would not after falling down twelve steps and knocking his knees and his nose and his elbows on every single one of them?

But this little boy, greatly to their surprise, did not make a sound. He puckered up his face, indeed, as though he would very much like to cry, but he did not. Instead of that, he looked hard at the Court Crier, as though he expected him to do something, though what the little boy could possibly expect of a thin, dried up, bald headed old gentleman like the Court Crier, the two children could not imagine.

The little boy, though, evidently knew what he was about.

"Where's my caddy?" shouted the Court Crier in a great hurry; whereupon there ran out of the crowd another little boy with a number on his hat, who carried hung around his neck with a pink ribbon, a little oblong box, like an old-fashioned tea-caddy, divided into two compartments.

Lifting the lid of this box, the Court Crier took out of the left hand compartment a large, clean pocket handkerchief, and then—! Down he plumped on the top step and began crying floods of tears, bawling and snuffling and making a great to do. If he had tumbled down a flight of fifty marble steps himself he could not have made more fuss about it.

Margaret and Frances were standing with their eyes wide open, wondering what was the meaning of it, when the Admiral, seeing how puzzled they were, stepped up to them and whispered:

"He's the Court Crier, you know."

"Yes, I know," replied Margaret. "But what has that to do with it?"

"What has that to do with it!" repeated the Admiral, astonished in his turn. "Why, everything. What do you suppose a Court Crier is for?"

"I don't know," replied Margaret. "What is he for?"

"Why, to cry, of course, when anybody gets hurt."

"What!" exclaimed Frances. "Do you mean to say that people are not allowed to cry for themselves?"

The Admiral shook his head. "Never," said he. "It couldn't be allowed on any account. It is the special privilege of the Court Crier to do all the crying. The office has been held by his family for ages. He is one of the Weeping Willows, you know, as I told you."

The children were still wondering at this very funny arrangement, when they noticed that the Court Crier every now and then moved his handkerchief to one side and peeped with one eye at the little boy on Margaret's knee, as if to see how he was getting on.

Observing this, Margaret also peeped at him, when she noticed that the little boy, who at first had been screwing up his face into all sorts of shapes, was gradually growing more and more composed, until presently he burst out smiling again, and scrambling down from Margaret's knee, he turned round and handed to her the bunch of violets, just as though nothing had happened.

Instantly, the Court Crier jumped to his feet, wrung half a pint of tears out of his handkerchief, and rolling it up into a ball, he opened the lid of his caddy-box and flung the handkerchief into the other compartment.

"Pardon the interruption, Ladies," said he. "We will now proceed."

At this, the Admiral and the Crew presented their hands to the two little girls and led them up the steps, when, the moment they set foot on the pier, all the little people ran and arranged themselves in two rows on either side of a long green carpet with red borders which stretched all the way to the other end; a band on shore struck up a merry tune; the Court Crier, drawing himself up as tall as he could, called out, "Form the procession!" and everyone at once fell into his proper place.

First of all marched the two little boys; then the Court Crier; then Periwinkle; then Margaret and Frances, hand in hand; and after them the Admiral and the Crew; the people, all clapping their hands to keep time to the music, falling in behind as they passed, so that ere they had reached the other end of the pier the procession was quite a long one.

"It's just as if we were princesses," remarked Margaret.

"Yes. Isn't it fun!" cried Frances; and looking at the rows of smiling little people, the two children could not help laughing and kissing their hands to them, as they had heard was the custom of princesses.

Whether it was the custom of princesses or not, it was plainly the right thing to do here, for the people all began to sing and dance, holding hands, while the band played louder than ever, and the two round, fat little horses in the carriage stood on their hind legs and waved their front feet in the air as if to welcome the King's guests.

As soon as the procession reached the end of the pier, the Court Crier opened the carriage door, when Margaret and Frances got in and away they went, still in procession: all the children running in front, scattering flowers on the road; then the Court Crier, ringing his bell; then the band; then the Admiral and the Crew, arm in arm; then the carriage; and then the people all dancing in pairs.

Pretty soon the children saw before them a beautiful little palace, built of pink and white coral in alternate layers, with battlements and towers and balconies and terraces and a big, arched front gate like a church doorway. On either side of the entrance-gate sat a line of sentinels on chestnut horses, six on each side, their brass helmets glittering in the sun, their chests stuck out and their backs very straight, trying their best to look fierce and warlike.

In this, however, they were not very successful, for though their moustaches stood out as stiff as gimlets, their faces looked so cheerful that Margaret and Frances felt sure their fierceness was all put on for appearance-sake.

"We can easily find out," said Frances. "Let's kiss our hands to them, and see if they don't smile."

"Very well," replied her sister. "I expect that is what a princess would do, anyhow. I know I should if I were a princess. So let's do it."

It was a most successful move. The soldiers all broke into smiles of the largest size and waved their swords in the air; their steeds stood up on their hind feet and danced round and round like performing dogs; and thus passing between the two lines of capering horses, the carriage rolled through the gateway into the palace courtyard, the band and the people remaining outside and only the Court Crier and the Admiral accompanying the King's guests to the foot of the palace steps.