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'It doesn't make a good story,' said Granny.
'Oh, bugger stories,' said Nanny loftily. 'You can always change a story.'
'Only at the right places,' said Granny. 'Anyway, maybe they could get her a new dress and horses and a coach and everything.'
'Where? When?' said Nanny. 'It's a holiday. And there's no time, anyway. They'll be starting the ball at any moment.'
Granny Weatherwax's fingers drummed on the edge of the cafe table.
Nanny sighed.
'Now what?' she said.
'It doesn't happen like this,' said Granny.
'Listen, Esme, the only kind of magic that'd work right now is wand magic. And Magrat's got the wand.' Nanny nodded at Magrat. 'Ain't that so, Magrat?'
'Um,' said Magrat.
'Not lost it, have you?'
'No, but - '
'There you are, then.'
'Only. . . um . . . Ella said she'd got two godmothers . . .'
Granny Weatherwax's hand thumped down on the table. Nanny's drink flew into the air and overturned.
'That's rightl' roared Granny.
'That was nearly full. That was a nearly full drink,' said Nanny reproachfully.
'Come on!'
'Best part of a whole glass of- '
'Gytha!'
'Did I say I wasn't coming? I was just pointing out - '
'Now!'
'Can I just ask the man to get me ano- '
'Gytha!'
The witches were halfway up the street when a coach rattled out of the driveway and trundled away.
'That can't be it!' said Magrat. 'We got rid of it!'
'We ort to have chopped it up,' said Nanny. 'There's good eating on a pumpk-'
'They've got us,' said Granny, slowing down to a stop.
'Can't you get into the minds of the horses?' said Magrat.
The witches concentrated.
