"

[Illustration: (see king009.png)]

Wisdom closed the book and returned this volume also to its place.

Really-Is arose to go.

"And what now is your mind, young sir?" asked Wisdom kindly.

Then Really-Is answered royally: "This you have taught me, O
Wisdom--this is my mind: _The Crown is not the kingdom, nor is one King
because he wears a crown_."

Then did Wisdom with bowed head salute the True King. "And your will,
Sire; may I know your Majesty's will?"

King Really-Is replied: "My will is this: that I myself obey the sacred
Law of The Ages."

"And your brother, Sire, your brother, Seemsto-Be?"

"I will pity Seemsto-Be," replied The King in sorrow, "I will have much
pity for that poor, foolish one."

"And peace will dwell in thy heart, O King of Allthetime," said Wisdom,
"true peace and understanding."

Then Really-Is, alone and unattended, rode slowly on his way.

And Seemsto-Be, who rode so fast and so far ahead of Really-Is, and who
paused not at the house of Wisdom, entered the city Daybyday through the
Brazen Gate called Chance, and was received by the people of many races,
languages, names and religions as their king.

With great tumult and shouting, with grand processions and ceremonies,
the false prince ascended the throne of Allthetime and was crowned with
the Magic Crown--the Crown of which no one then knew its magic, but knew
only that its magic was.

Then began such times as were never before nor since seen in Daybyday;
with holiday after holiday for the people, with festivals and parades,
with carnivals and games, with feasting and dancing; until the chief
occupation of the people was forgotten--until their many temples were
empty, their many gods neglected; until with a fete extraordinary,
Seemsto-Be decreed that there should be from henceforth and forever, in
Daybyday, one temple only--one temple sacred to one god, the god
Things-Are-Good-Enough.

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

The Voice in the darkness ceased. The Pilgrim, rising, groped his way to
the window.

Without, all was dark with a thick darkness--all was still with a heavy
stillness. Only the stars were in the Deeps Above. The stars so old, so
ever new--only the stars. Lifting his face, the Pilgrim looked at the
stars, and lo! as he looked, those whirling worlds of light shaped
themselves into mighty letters, and the letters shap