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 shaped themselves into
words, until in the heavens the Pilgrim read the truth that Wisdom had