The Wit & Wisdom of Discworld - By Terry Pratchett Page 0,32
and regarded the food with deep suspicion.
‘Good simple home cooking,’ said Granny. ‘That’s all I require. I just want simple food. Not all grease and stuff. It comes to something when you complain about something in your lettuce and it turns out to be what you ordered.’
Knowing how stories work is almost all the battle.
For example, when an obvious innocent sits down with three experienced card sharpers and says ‘How do you play this game, then?’, someone is about to be shaken down until their teeth fall out.
The dwarf bread was brought out for inspection. But it was miraculous, the dwarf bread. No one ever went hungry when they had some dwarf bread to avoid. You only had to look at it for a moment, and instantly you could think of dozens of things you’d rather eat. Your boots, for example. Mountains. Raw sheep. Your own foot.
*
There were only six suits of chain mail in the whole of Lancre, made on the basis of one-size-doesn’t-quite-fit-all.
*
‘When did you last have a bath, Esme?’
‘What do you mean, last? Baths is unhygienic,’ Granny declared. ‘You know I’ve never agreed with baths. Sittin’ around in your own dirt like that.’
‘What do you do, then?’ said Magrat.
‘I just washes,’ said Granny. ‘All the bits. You know. As and when they becomes available.’
*
Granny Weatherwax had never turned anyone into a frog. The way she saw it, there was a technically less cruel but cheaper and much more satisfying thing you could do. You could leave them human and make them think they were a frog, which also provided much innocent entertainment for passers-by.
*
‘I don’t mind criticism,’ said Granny. ‘You know me. I’ve never been one to take offence at criticism. No one could say I’m the sort to take offence at criticism—’
‘Not twice, anyway’ said Nanny.
*
People like Nanny Ogg turn up everywhere. It’s as if there’s some special morphic generator dedicated to the production of old women who like a laugh and aren’t averse to the odd pint, especially of some drink normally sold in very small glasses. You find them all over the place, often in pairs.†
*
Nanny Ogg quite liked cooking, provided there were other people around to do things like chop up the vegetables and wash the dishes afterwards.
*
‘That’s the trouble with second sight,’ Desiderata said. ‘You can see what’s happenin’, but you don’t know what it means. I’ve seen the future. There’s a coach made out of a pumpkin. And that’s impossible. And there’s coachmen made out of mice, which is unlikely. And there’s a clock striking midnight, and something about a glass slipper. And it’s all going to happen. Because that’s how stories have to work.’
*
But then Granny and Nanny have to try to stop the story from happening.
‘It’s no good, you know [said Lily Weatherwax]. You can’t stop this sort of thing. It has the momentum of inevitability. You can’t spoil a good story. I should know.’
She handed the slipper to the Prince, but without taking her eyes off Granny.
‘It’ll fit her,’ she said.
Two of the courtiers held Magrat’s leg as the Prince wrestled the slipper past her protesting toes.
‘There,’ said Lily, still without looking down. ‘And do stop trying that hedge-witch hypnotism on me, Esme.’
‘It fits,’ said the Prince, but in a doubtful tone of voice.
‘Yes, anything would fit,’ said a cheerful voice from somewhere towards the back of the crowd, ‘if you were allowed to put two pairs of hairy socks on first.’
Lily looked down. Then she looked at Magrat’s mask. She reached out and pulled it off.
‘Wrong girl,’ said Lily. ‘But it still doesn’t matter, Esme, because it is the right slipper. So all we have to do is find the girl whose foot it fits—’
There was a commotion at the back of the crowd. Courtiers parted, revealing Nanny Ogg.
‘If it’s a five-and-a-half narrow fit, I’m your man,’ she said. ‘Just let me get these boots off…’
‘I wasn’t referring to you, old woman,’ said Lily coldly.
‘Oh, yes you was,’ said Nanny. ‘We know how this bit goes, see. The Prince goes all round the city with the slipper, trying to find the girl whose foot fits. That’s what you was plannin’. So I can save you a bit of trouble, how about it?’
There was a flicker of uncertainty in Lily’s expression.
‘A girl,’ she said, ‘of marriageable age.’
‘No problem there,’ said Nanny cheerfully …
Nanny grabbed the slipper out of the Prince’s hands and, before anyone else could move, slid it on to her foot.