o
Really-Is he gave Reality; to Seemsto-Be he gave Appearance; and both
were steeds of noble breeding, swift and strong, beautiful and proud--as
like even as the royal twins, their masters.

So it came that the two princes bade farewell to their father, the King,
and rode bravely out of the city Daybyday, through the Land of
Allthetime, and along the way that leads to the City Sometime in the
Land of Yettocome.

"And this, O Hadji," said the Voice of the Waves, "is all of The Tale of
The Uncrowned King that is given me to tell."

The liquid music of the waves came no longer through the open
window--the voice that was in the music came no more to the Pilgrim in
The Quiet Room. Without the Temple the tall trees were still-still and
silent were the sweet-voiced birds. The sunlight and shadow fairies had
danced to the ends of the lanes of gold--danced to the very ends and
were gone. The feathery cloud ships in the blue above seemed to lie at
anchor, and over the surface of the Beautiful Sea no laughing ripples
ran to play on the pebbly beach.

The Pilgrim arose from his couch, and, going to the open window, looked,
and there, in the still, fathomless, depth of the clear water, he saw as
in a crystal glass the wonderful city Daybyday with its canals and
harbors, its parks and drives, its groves and gardens, its palaces and
temples.

Then, even as the Pilgrim looked, quickly the Evening Wind sprang up.
Again the tall trees rustled their leaves, the cloud ships lifted their
anchors, the waves of the Beautiful Sea ran joyously; the Vision in the
Deeps Beneath was gone.

* * * * *

AND THE SECOND VOICE WAS THE VOICE OF THE EVENING WIND

[Illustration: And the Second Voice was
The Voice of the Evening Wind (see king006.png)]

It was early twilight when the Pilgrim in The Quiet Room returned to his
couch and to his meditations.

Without the Temple, the last of the day was stealing over the rim of the
world into the mysterious realm of the yesterdays. The feathery cloud
ships no longer floated white in the depth of blue, but with wide flung
sails of rose and crimson swept over an ocean of amethyst and gold. The
ripples that ran on the Beautiful Sea were edged with yellow and scarlet
flame, while leaf, and blade, and flower, and bird, and all of their
kind and kin, were singing their evensong. Sweetly, softly, the choral
anthem stole through the open window into The Quiet Room.

And