“What's been happening while I've been away?”
“Well,” said Nanny, “Magrat stood up to the-”
“Oh, I knew she'd do that. Had the wedding, have you?”
“Wedding?” The rest of them exchanged glances.
“Of course not!” said Magrat. “Brother Perdore of the Nine Day Wonderers was going to do it and he was knocked out cold by an elf, and anyway people are all-”
“Don't let's have any excuses,” said Granny briskly. “Anyway, a senior wizard can conduct a service at a pinch, ain't that right?”
“I, I, I think so,” said Ridcully, who was falling behind a bit in world events.
“Right. A wizard's only a priest without a god and a damp handshake,” said Granny
“But half the guests have run away!” said Magrat.
“We'll round up some more,” said Granny
“Mrs. Scorbic will never get the wedding feast done in time!”
“You'll have to tell her to,” said Granny.
“The bridesmaids aren't here!”
“We'll make do.”
“I haven't got a dress!”
“What's that you've got on?”
Magrat looked down at the stained chain-mail, the mud-encrusted breastplate, and the few damp remnants of white silk that hung over them like a ragged tabard.
“Looks good to me,” said Granny “Nanny'll do your hair.”
Magrat reached up instinctively, removed the winged helmet, and patted her hair. Bits of twigs and fragments of heather had twisted themselves in it with comb-breaking complexity It never looked good for five minutes together at the best of times; now it was a bird's nest.
“I think I'll leave it,” she said.
Granny nodded approvingly
“That's the way of it,” she said. “It's not what you've got that matters, it's how you've got it. Well, we're just about ready, then.”
Nanny leaned toward her and whispered.
“What? Oh, yes. Where's the groom?”
“He's a bit muzzy. Not sure what happened,” said Magrat.
“Perfectly normal,” said Nanny, “after a stag night.”
There were difficulties to overcome:
“We need a Best Man.”
“Ook.”
“Well, at least put some clothes on.”