Magrat looked momentarily taken aback.
“Well, I would . . . I mean, if he had . . . I'd-”
“You'd be getting married today, would you?” said Nanny, but in a distant voice, as if she was thinking about something else.
“Well, that depends on-”
“You want to, don't you?”
“Well, yes, of course, but-”
“That's nice, then,” said Nanny, in what Magrat thought of as her nursery voice.
“Yes, but she pushed me on one side and shut me up in the castle and I got so wound up-”
“You were so angry that you actually stood Up to the Queen. You actually laid hands on her,” said Nanny. “Well done. The old Magrat wouldn't have done that, would she? Esme could always see the real thing. Now nip out of the back door and look at the log pile, there's a love.”
“But I hated her and hated her and now she's dead!”
“Yes, dear. Now go and tell Nanny about the log pile.”
Magrat opened her mouth to frame the words “I happen to be very nearly queen” but decided not to. Instead she graciously went outside and looked at the log pile.
“It's quite high,” she said, coming back and blowing her nose. “Looks like it's just been stacked.”
And she wound up the clock yesterday,“ said Nanny. ”And the tea caddy's half full, I just looked."
“Well?”
“She wasn't sure,” said Nanny. “Hmm.” She opened the envelope addressed to her. It was larger and flatter than the one holding the will, and contained a single piece of card.
Nanny read it, and let it drop on to the table.
“Come on,” she said. “We ain't got much time!”
“What's the matter?”
“And bring the sugar bowl!”
Nanny wrenched open the door and hurried toward her broomstick.
“Come on!”
Magrat picked up the card. The writing was familiar. She'd seen it several times before, when calling on Granny Weatherwax unexpectedly.
It said: I ATE'NT DEAD.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
“What're you doing on guard with your arm in a sling, Shawn?”
“Duty calls. Mum.”
“Well, let us in right now.”
“Are you Friend or Foe, Mum?”
“Shawn, this is almost-Queen Magrat here with me, all right?”