'Charades?' said the Cheerful Fairy. 'Or perhaps you've been playing them already? How about a sing-song? Who knows “Row Row Row Your Boat”?' Her bright little smile hit the group scowl of the assembled wizards. 'We don't want to be Mr Grumpy, do we?' she added hopefully. 'Yes,' said the Senior Wrangler. The Cheerful Fairy sagged, and then patted frantically at her shapeless sleeves until she tugged out a balled-up handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes. 'It's all going wrong again, isn't it?' she said, her chin trembling. 'No one ever wants to be cheerful these days, and I really do try. I've made a Joke Book and I've got three boxes of clothes for charades and ... and ... and whenever I try to cheer people up they all look embarrassed ... and really I do make an effort . . She blew her nose loudly. Even the Senior Wrangler had the grace to look embarrassed. 'Er . . .' he began. 'Would it hurt anyone just occasionally to try to be a little bit cheerful?' said the Cheerful Fairy. 'Er ... in what way?' said the Senior Wrangler, feeling wretched. 'Well, there's so many nice things to be cheerful about,' said the Cheerful Fairy, blowing her nose again. 'Er ... raindrops and sunsets and that sort of thing?' said the Senior Wrangler, managing some sarcasm, but they could tell his heart wasn't in it. 'Er, would you like to borrow my handkerchief? It's nearly fresh.'
'Why don't you get the lady a nice sherry?' said Ridcully. 'And some corn for her chicken . . .'
'Oh, I never drink alcohol,' said the Cheerful Fairy, horrified. 'Really?' said Ridcully. 'We find it's something to be cheerful about. Mr Stibbons ... would you be so kind as to step over here for a moment?' He beckoned him up close.
'There's got to be a lot of belief sloshing around to let her be created,' he said. 'She's a good fourteen stone, if I'm any judge. If we wanted to contact the Hogfather, how would we go about it? Letter up chimney?'
'Yes, but not tonight, sir,' said Ponder. 'He'll be out delivering.'
'No telling where he'll be, then,' said Ridcully. 'Blast.'
'Of course, he might not have come here yet,' said Ponder. 'Why should he come here?' said Ridcully. The Librarian pulled the blankets over himself and curled up. As an orang-utan he hankered for the warmth of the rainforest. The problem was that he'd never even seen a rainforest, having been turned into an orang-utan when he was already a fully grown human. Something in his bones knew about it, though, and didn't like the cold of winter at all. But he was also a librarian in those same bones and he flatly refused to allow fires to be lit in the library. As a result, pillows and blankets went missing everywhere else in the University and ended up in a sort of cocoon in the reference section, in which the ape lurked during the worst of the winter. He turned over and wrapped himself in the Bursar's curtains. There was a creaking outside his nest, and some whispering. 'No, don't fight the lamp.'
'I wondered why I hadn't seen him all evening.'
'Oh, he goes to bed early on Hogswatch Eve, sir. Here we are . . .' There was some rustling. 'We're in luck. It hasn't been filled,' said Ponder. 'Looks like he's used one of the Bursar's.'
'He puts it up every year?'
'Apparently.'
'But it's not as though he's a child. A certain child-like simplicity, perhaps.'
'It might be different for orang-utans, Archchancellor.'
'Do they do it in the jungle, d'you think?'
'I don't imagine so, sir. No chimneys, for one thing.'
'And quite short legs, of course. Extremely underfunded in the sock area, orang-utans. They'd be quids in if they could hang up gloves, of course. Hogfather'd be on double shifts if they could hang up their gloves. On account of the length of their arms.'
'Very good, Archchancellor.'
'I say, what's this on the... my word, a glass of sherry. Well, waste not, want not.' There was a damp glugging noise in the darkness. 'I think that was supposed to be for the Hogfather, sir.'
'And the banana?'
'I imagine that's been left out for the pigs, sir.'
'Pigs?'
'Oh, you know, sir. Tusker and Snouter and Gouger and Rooter. I mean,' Ponder stopped, conscious that a grown man shouldn't be able to remember this sort of thing, 'that's what children believe.'
'Bananas for pigs? That's not traditional, is it? I'd have thought acorns, perhaps. Or apples or swedes.'
'Yes, sir, but the Librarian likes bananas, sir.'
'Very nourishin' fruit, Mr Stibbons.'
'Yes, sir. Although, funnily enough it's not actually a fruit, sir.'
'Really?'
'Yes, sir. Botanically, it's a type of fish, sir. According to my theory it's cladistically associated with the Krullian pipefish, sir, which of course is also yellow and goes around in bunches or shoals.'
'And lives in trees?'
'Well, not usually, sir. The banana is obviously exploiting a new niche.'