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'Where? Where?' said Nanny.
'Over there . . . sitting by the potted plants.'
'Oh, yes. On the chassy longyew,' said Nanny. “That's ”sofa" in foreign, you know,' she added.
'What's she doing?'
'Being attractive to men, I think.'
'What, Magratr
'Yeah. You're really getting good at that hypnotism, ain't you.'
* * *
Magrat fluttered her fan and looked up at the Compte de Yoyo.
'La, sir," she said. 'You may get me another plate of lark's eggs, if you really must.'
'Like a shot, dear lady!' The old man bustled off in the direction of the buffet.
Magrat surveyed her empire of admirers, and then extended a languorous hand towards Captain de Vere of the Palace Guard. He stood to attention.
'Dear captain,' she said, 'you may have the pleasure of the next dance.'
'Acting like a hussy,' said Granny disapprovingly.
Nanny gave her an odd look.
'Not really,' she said. 'Anyway, a bit of hussing never did anyone any harm. At least none of those men look like the Duc. 'Ere, what you doing?'
This was to a small bald-headed man who was trying surreptitiously to set up a small easel in front of them.
'Uh ... if you ladies could just hold still for a few minutes,' he said shyly. 'For the woodcut?'
'What woodcut?' said Granny Weatherwax.
'You know,' said the man, opening a small penknife. 'Everyone likes to see their woodcut in the broadsheets after a ball like this? “Lady Thing enjoying a joke with Lord Whatsit”, that sort of thing?'
Granny Weatherwax opened her mouth to reply, but Nanny Ogg laid a gentle hand on her arm. She relaxed a little and sought for something more suitable to say.
'I knows a joke about alligator sandwiches,' she volunteered, and shook Nanny's hand away. “There was a man, and he went into an inn and he said ”Do you sell alligator sandwiches?“ and the other man said ”Yes“ and he said, ”Then give me an alligator sandwich - and don't be a long time about it!'"
She gave him a triumphant look.
'Yes?' said the woodcutter, chipping away quickly, 'And then what happened?'
Nanny Ogg dragged Granny away quickly, searching for a distraction.
'Some people don't know a joke when they hear it,' said Granny.
As the band launched into another number Nanny Ogg rumbled in a pocket and found the dance card that belonged to an owner now slumbering peacefully in a distant room.
"This is,' she turned the card round, her lips moving wonderingly, 'Sir, Roger the Coverley?'
'Ma'am?'
Granny Weatherwax looked around. A plump military man with big whiskers was bowing to her. He looked as though he'd enjoyed quite a few jokes in his time.
