Witches Abroad (Terry Pratchett)

The coach cornered on two wheels. Greebo stood on the coachman’s box, swaying and grinning madly and cracking the whip. This was even better than his fluffy ball with a bell in it…

Inside the coach Magrat was wedged between the two older witches, her head in her hands.

“But Ella might get lost in the swamp!”

“Not with that cockerel leading the way. She’ll be safer in Mrs. Gogol’s swamp than at the ball, I know that,” said Nanny.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” said Granny.

“Everyone’ll know I’m not her!”

“Not with the mask on they won’t,” said Granny.

“But my hair’s the wrong color!”

“I can tint that up a treat, no problem,” said Nanny.

“I’m the wrong shape!”

“We can—” Granny hesitated. “Can you, you know, puff yourself out a bit more?”

“No!”

“Have you got a spare handkerchief, Gytha?”

“I reckon I could tear a bit off my petticoat, Esme.”

“Ouch!”

“There!”

“And these glass shoes don’t fit!”

“They fit me fine,” said Nanny. “I gave ’em a try.”

“Yes, but I’ve got smaller feet than you!”

“That’s all right,” said Granny. “You put on a couple of pairs of my socks and they’ll fit real snug.”

Bereft of all further excuses, Magrat struck out in sheer desperation.

“But I don’t know how to behave at balls!”

Granny Weatherwax had to admit that she didn’t, either. She raised her eyebrows at Nanny.

“You used to go dancin’ when you were young,” she said.

“Well,” said Nanny Ogg, social tutor, “what you do is, you tap men with your fan—got your fan?—and say things like ‘La, sir!’ It helps to giggle, too. And flutter your eyelashes a bit. And pout.”

“How am I supposed to pout?”

Nanny Ogg demonstrated.

“Yuk!”

“Don’t worry,” said Granny. “We’ll be there too.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better, is it?”

Nanny reached behind Magrat and grabbed Granny’s shoulder. Her lips formed the words: Won’t work. She’s all to pieces. No confidence.

Granny nodded.

“Perhaps I ought to do it,” said Nanny, in a loud voice. “I’m experienced at balls. I bet if I wore my hair long and wore the mask and them shiny shoes and we hemmed up the dress a foot no one’d know the difference, what do you say?”

Magrat was so overawed by the sheer fascinating picture of this that she obeyed unthinkingly when Granny Weatherwax said, “Look at me, Magrat Garlick.”