“Someone ought to stay here,” said Verence. “Shawn will be on guard, but-”
“No one's going to invade, are they?” said Nanny. “Let me sort this out.”
“Well. . . if you're sure . . .”
“Go on!”
Nanny Ogg waited until she heard them go down the main staircase. After a while a rattle of coaches and general shouting suggested that the wedding party was leaving, minus the bride-to-be.
She counted to a hundred, under her breath.
Then:
“Magrat?”
“Go away!”
“I know how it is,” said Nanny. “I was a bit worried on the night before my wedding.” She refrained from adding:
because there was a reasonable chance Jason would turn up as an extra guest.
“I am not worried! I am angry!”
“Why?”
“You know!”
Nanny took off her hat and scratched her head.
“You've got me there,” she said.
“And he knew. I know he knew, and I know who told him,” said the muffled voice behind the door. “It was all arranged. You must all have been laughing!”
Nanny frowned at the impassive woodwork.
“Nope,” she said. “Still all at sea this end.”
“Well, I'm not saying anymore.”
“Everyone's gone to the Entertainment,” said Nanny Ogg.
No reply.
“And later they'll be back.” A further absence of dialogue.
“Then there'll be carousing and jugglers and fellas that put weasels down their trousers,” said Nanny. Silence.
“And then it'll be tomorrow, and then what're you going to do?”
Silence.
“You can always go back to your cottage. No one's moved in. Or you can stop along of me, if you like. But you'll have to decide, d'you see, because you can't stay locked in there.”
Nanny leaned against the wall.
“I remember years ago my granny telling me about Queen Amonia, well, I say queen, but she never was queen except for about three hours because of what I'm about to unfold, on account of them playing hide-and-seek at the wedding party and her hiding in a big heavy old chest in some attic and the lid slamming shut and no one finding her for seven months, by which time you could definitely say the wedding cake was getting a bit stale.”
Silence.