ion in the palace of Lookingahead as the guests
made swift preparations for their journey. Quickly the word went
throughout the city and many charming people came to express regret, to
sympathize and to bid the young men good-speed and safe going on their
homeward way. The princesses, Fancy and Imagination, were very sad at
losing their pleasant companions; and the Chief High Priest of the
Temple commanded services and offerings extraordinary to the god
Itmightbe.

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

The evening song of leaf and blade, and flower and bird, and all their
kind and kin, ceased to come through the open window into The Quiet
Room. The low Voice of the Evening Wind no longer whispered to the
Pilgrim as he lay upon his couch. Without the Temple the eventide was
passing from over the silent land and over the silent sea.

For a little the Pilgrim waited; then rising from his couch, again he
went to the open window, and lo! in the evening sky he saw the City
Sometime in the Land of Yettocome. All the wondrous castles and palaces
were there, marvelous in their beauty, glorious in their splendor,
dazzling in their colors of emerald, rose and purple, of ruby, crimson
and gold. From spire and dome, cupola and turret, tower and battlement
the lights flashed and gleamed, while the Pilgrim looked in wonder and
in awe. And high above the city walls, that shone as burnished silver in
the sun, rose the temple flaming like a ruby flame--the temple sacred to
the god Itmightbe.

Slowly, slowly, the last of the twilight passed. Slowly, the graceful
lines, the proud forms, the majestic piles of the city melted--melted,
blurred and were lost even as are lost the form and loveliness of a snow
flake on the sleeve. Slowly, slowly, the glorious colors faded as fade
the flowers at the touch of frost. The lights went out. The darkness
came. The city that is fairer than an angel's dream was gone.

* * * * *

AND THE THIRD VOICE WAS THE VOICE OF THE NIGHT

[Illustration: And the Third Voice was
The Voice of the Night (see king008.png)]

It was full night when the Pilgrim turned again to seek his couch.

Without the Temple it was very still--dark and still. Very still was it
within The Quiet Room, and the darkness that came stealing through the
open window was a thick and heavy darkness. The Pilgr