"This is all a bad dream!" one of the Three Fat Men muttered, covering his eyes with his hands.
"Tibul and Prospero began to sing.
Thousands of voices joined in.
The song floated over the entire Palace park, over the canals and the bridges.
The people who were still marching towards the Palace from the town gates heard the song and began to sing, too.
The song rolled like an ocean wave down the road, through the town gates, into the town and up and down the streets, where the workers and poor people were marching.
Now the entire town was singing.
It was the song of people who had triumphed over their oppressors.
Not only the Three Fat Men and their ministers huddled together like a herd of bleating sheep at the sound of the song. No, all the fops in the town, all the fat shopkeepers, the gluttons, merchants, grand ladies and bald generals fled in terror at the sound of it, as if this were not a song, but cannon shots and fire.
They wanted to hide from it, they stuck their fingers in their ears, they buried their heads under expensive silk pillows.
It all ended with a huge crowd of rich people running towards the port, scrambling on to ships that would take them far away from the country where they had lost their power, their riches, and their lives of idleness.
But they were surrounded by sailors.
The rich people were arrested.
They asked to be forgiven.
They said:
"Don't punish us.
We won't make you work for us any more!"
But the people would not believe them, for the rich had fooled the poor and the workers many times before.
The sun was high over the town.
The sky was as blue as could be.
All nature seemed to be having a great celebration.
Now everything belonged to the people: the houses, the ships, the factories, the Palace, the warehouses, the shops.
Everywhere Guards with red ribbons in their hats stood guard.
Red banners waved at the crossings. There were words on them:
Everything that is made by the poor belongs to the poor!
Long live the people!
Down with the idlers and gluttons!
But what happened to the Three Fat Men?
They were taken to the main hall of the Palace to be shown to the people.
Workers in grey jackets with green cuffs held their rifles at the ready as they stood guard.
The hall was ablaze with thousands of sun spots.
How crowded it was!
But how different the crowd looked. These were not the same people little Suok had performed for the day she had met Tutti the Heir.
Gathered there were all the people who applauded her on the market squares and at the fairs.
Now their faces were happy and gay.
They pushed and shoved, laughed and joked.
Some were even crying with joy.
The grand Palace halls had never seen such guests before.
And never before had the sun shone so brightly inside the Palace.
"Shh!"
"Be quiet!"
"Silence!"
The prisoners appeared at the top of the staircase.
The Three Fat Men never once raised their eyes from the ground.
Leading them were Prospero and Tibul.
The marble columns shook from all the shouting.
The Three Fat Men were led down the staircase, so that the people could get a better look at them and make sure that the terrible Fat Men had really been captured.
"Here," said Prospero, as he went over to a column.
He was nearly half as tall as the great column itself; his red hair blazed like a flaming fire in the sunlight. "Here," he said, "here are the Three Fat Men.
They robbed the poor, they made us work till we sweated blood, and they took away all that we made.