'Yes, but that's because she's a disgustin' old baggage,' said Granny, without looking up.
Nanny Ogg took her pipe out of her mouth.
'That's right,' she said amiably. 'You ain't nothing if you don't maintain an image.'
Granny looked up from the lock.
'Can't shift it,' she said. 'It's octiron, too. Can't magic it open.'
'It's daft, locking us up,' said Nanny. 'I'd have had us killed.'
'That's because you're basically good,' said Magrat. 'The good are innocent and create justice. The bad are guilty, which is why they invent mercy.'
'No, I know why she's done this,' said Granny, darkly. 'It's so's we'll know we've lost.'
'But she said we'd escape,' said Magrat. 'I don't understand. She must know the good ones always win in the end!'
'Only in stories,' said Granny, examining the door hinges. 'And she thinks she's in charge of the stories. She bends them round herself. She thinks she's the good one.'
'Mind you,' said Magrat, 'I don't like swamps. If it wasn't for the frog and everything, I'd see Lily's point - '
'Then you're nothing but a daft godmother,' snapped Granny, still fiddling with the lock. 'You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage. Besides, you don't build a better world by choppin' heads off and giving decent girls away to frogs.'
'But progress - ' Magrat began.
'Don't you talk to me about progress. Progress just means bad things happen faster. Anyone got another hatpin? This one's useless.'
Nanny, who had Greebo's ability to make herself instantly at home wherever she happened to be, sat down in the corner of the cell.
'I heard this story once,' she said, 'where this bloke got locked up for years and years and he learned amazin' stuff about the universe and everythin' from another prisoner who was incredibly clever, and then he escaped and got his revenge.'
'What incredibly clever stuff do you know about the universe, Gytha Ogg?' said Granny.
'Bugger all,' said Nanny cheerfully.
'Then we'd better bloody well escape right now.'
Nanny pulled a scrap of pasteboard out of her hat, found a scrap of pencil up there too, licked the end and thought for a while. Then she wrote: Dear Jason unt so witer (as they say in foreign parts),
Well here's a thing yore ole Mum doin Time in prison again, Im a old lag, youll have to send me a cake with a phial in it and I shall have little arrows on my close just my joke. This is a Sketch of the dunjon. Im putting a X where we are, which is Inside. Magrat is shown wering a posh dress, she has been acting like a Courgette. Also inc. Esme getting fed up becaus she can't get the lock to work but I expect it will all be OK because the good ones win in the end and that's US. And all because some girl don't want to marry a Prince who is a Duck who is really a Frog and I cant say I blame her, you don't want descendants who have got Jenes and start off living in a jamjar and then hop about and get squashed. . .
She was interrupted by the sound of a mandolin being played quite well, right on the other side of the wall, and a small but determined voice raised in song.
' — si consuenti d'amoure, ventre dimo tondreturo-ooo - '
'How I hunger my love for the dining-room of your warm maceration,' said Nanny, without looking up.
' - della della t'ozentro, audri t'dren vontarieeeeee - '
'The shop, the shop, I have a lozenge, the sky is pink,' said Nanny.
Granny and Magrat looked at one another.
' - guarunto del tart, bella pore di larientos - '
'Rejoice, candlemaker, you have a great big - '
'I don't believe any of this,' said Granny. 'You're making it up.'