“Yeah, everyone knows 'tis your delight on a shining night,” said Thatcher the carter.
“Tis his delight every night,” said Jason.
“Hey,” said Baker the weaver, “we're getting really good at this rude mechanism, ain't we?”
“Let's go right,” said Jason.
“Nah, it's all briars and thorns that way.”
“All right, then, left then.”
“It's all winding,” said Weaver.
“What about the middle road?” said Carter.
Jason peered ahead.
There was a middle track, hardly more than an animal path, which wound away under shady trees. Ferns grew thickly alongside it. There was a general green, rich, dark feel to it, suggested by the word “bosky”[22]
His blacksmith's senses stood up and screamed.
“Not that way,” he said.
“Ah, come on,” said Weaver. “What's wrong with it?”
“Goes up to the Dancers, that path does,” said Jason. “Me mam said no one was to go up to the Dancers 'cos of them young women dancing round 'em in the nudd.”
“Yeah, but they've been stopped from that,” said Thatcher. “Old Granny Weatherwax put her foot down hard and made 'em put their drawers on.”
“And they ain't to go there anymore, neither,” said Carter. “So it'll be nice and quiet for the rehearsing.”
“Me mam said no one was to go there,” said Jason, a shade uncertainly.
“Yeah, but she probably meant . . . you know . . . with magical intent,” said Carter. “Nothing magical about prancing around in wigs and stuff.”
“Right,” said Thatcher. “And it'll be really private.”
“And,” said Weaver, “if any young women fancies sneaking back up there to dance around without their drawers on, we'll be sure to see 'em.”
There was a moment of absolute, introspective silence.
“I reckon,” said Thatcher, voicing the unspoken views of nearly all of them, “we owes it to the community.”
“We-ell,” said Jason, “me mam said . . .”
“Anyway, your mum's a fine one to talk,” said Weaver. “My dad said that when he was young, your mum hardly ever had-”
“Oh, all right,” said Jason, clearly outnumbered. “Can't see it can do any harm. We're only actin'. It's . . . it's make-believe. It's not as if it's anything real. But no one's to do any dancing. Especially, and I want everyone to be absolutely definite about this, the Stick and Bucket dance.”
“Oh, we'll be acting all right,” said Weaver. “And keeping watch as well, o'course.”
gave up.
“Oh, well,” she said, “I'm sure you'll work it all out as you-”
Granny and the king reappeared.
“How's the girl?” said Granny.