They all turned and saw a lone figure walking towards them. The person was struggling under the weight of a gigantic scroll of rose-coloured parchment.
'It must be that reporter,' said Topaz. 'She promised she'd bring the parchment for the petition.'
They all climbed down from their ShobGobbles and hurried over to help her.
Jenny Jenkins beamed at them. She had pinned her hair back from her forehead so her 't' tattoo was clearly visible and she looked ready for action.
'We've got a perfect day for it,' she said. She looked around. 'Um, where is everybody?'
'We don't know,' said Nicola. 'We're just starting to feel a bit nervous.'
'Oh, no need to be nervous,' said Jenny nervously. 'People will come. You saw my article, right? I mean everybody on the planet reads the Shobble Times. We must surely get some people to turn up.'
'Well, we've brought along this table for people to line up at to sign the petition,' said Topaz. 'So I guess we should set it up.'
'And we'll organise the music,' said Sean.
'I guess we can get the yellow dye ready for people's clothes,' said Greta. 'Even though I'm sure nobody is coming.'
Jenny took a pen out from behind her ear and began to take notes. 'So you're dyeing everyone's clothes yellow because you believe Enrico is frightened of the colour yellow?'
'Yes, he has xanthophobia,' said Nicola.
'Gosh. How do you spell that?' asked Jenny, and without waiting for an answer she said, 'And aren't everyone's clothes going to be wet after you dye them?'
'I've got an Instant Clothes Dryer,' said Shimlara.
'I've never heard of such a thing.'
'It's from the planet of Globagaskar,' said Shimlara. 'That's where I'm from.'
'Oh this is such a scoop,' sighed Jenny happily.
'So let's dye your clothes first, Jenny,' said Greta. She and Katie were busy pouring Nicola's jar of turmeric into a big pot of boiling water. 'We've set up this change room here for you.' She pointed to a small tent.
'Oh.' Jenny looked down at her navy blue jacket sadly. 'Yellow really isn't my colour. Although I guess I shouldn't be worried about having a pasty complexion when we're in the middle of a revolution.'
'No, that would be selfish,' agreed Greta.
'Nicola!' shouted a man's voice.
Nicola saw a sleigh pull up beside her. It was Horatio. He held the sleigh's reins in one hand and had his other arm around a tiny, rather stern-faced old woman. Horatio had changed a lot since they'd seen him in the forest. He could no longer be mistaken for a shrub. His face was rounder, his hair washed and he was wearing clean clothes.
'This is the young Earthling who brought us back together,' said Horatio. 'Nicola, I'd like you to meet my wife, Bertha Banks.'
Bertha's wrinkled face was transformed as she smiled at Nicola. 'Thank you so much for tracking down my foolish husband.' She cuffed Horatio on the back of his head and Horatio gave her a kiss on the cheek.
'Did you get my delivery, Nicola?' asked Horatio.
'Oh, yes, thank you!' said Nicola. 'Wait till you see what we've got planned for the buttons!'
'I can't wait,' said Horatio. He looked around at all the activity approvingly. 'And I see we're all going to be wearing yellow. Naughty Enrico is going to be in a terrible state! He'll be sobbing and calling for his mother!'
'Well, let's hope so,' said Nicola doubtfully. Horatio couldn't seem to get it into his head that Enrico had grown up.
'Excuse me, Mr Banks, sir!' called out Serena. She was sitting at the table with the rose-coloured scroll of parchment. 'Would you like to be the first to sign the petition?'
'It would be my honour,' said Horatio. He read the petition silently. Nicola knew what it said, because she and Serena had been up late the night before trying to work out the exact wording. They had finally decided upon: