'What happened to him, then?' said the King sharply.
'His full name is James What The Hell's That Cow Doing In Here Poorchick,' said Magrat.
'That was a very strange day, I do remember that,' said Nanny.
'And if my mother had been sensible enough to tell Brother Perdore my name instead of coming over all bashful and writing it down, life would have been a whole lot different,' said Magrat. She glanced nervously at Verence. 'Probably worse, of course.'
'So I've got to take Esmerelda out to her people and tell them one of her middle names is Note Spelling?' said Verence.
'Well, we did once have a king called My God He's Heavy the First,' said Nanny. 'And the beer's been on for the last couple of hours so, basic'ly, you'll get a cheer whatever you say.'
Besides, thought Agnes, I know for a fact there's people out there called Syphilidae Wilson and Yodel Lightley and Total Biscuit.[10]
Verence smiled. 'Oh well... let me have her...'
'Whifm...' said Mightily Oats.
'... and perhaps someone ought to give this man a drink.'
'I'm so terribly, terribly sorry,' whispered the priest, as the King walked between the lines of guests.
'Been on the drink already, I expect,' said Nanny.
'I never ever touch alcohol!' moaned the priest. He dabbed at his streaming eyes with a handkerchief.
'I knew there was something wrong with you as soon as I looked at you,' said Nanny. 'Where's Esme, then?'
'I don't know, Nanny!' said Agnes.
'She'd know about this, you mark my words. This'll be a feather in her cap, right enough, a princess named after her. She'll be crowing about it for months. I'm going to see what's going on.'
She stumped off.
Agnes grabbed the priest's arm.
'Come along, you,' she sighed.
'I really cannot, um, express how sorry-'
'It's a very strange evening all round.'
'I've, I've, I've never, um, heard of the custom before-'
'People put a lot of importance on words in these parts.'
'I'm very much afraid the King will give a bad, um, report of me to Brother Melchio...'
'Really.'
There are some people who could turn even the most amiable character into a bully and the priest seemed to be one of them. There was something... sort of damp about him, the kind of helpless hopelessness that made people angry rather than charitable, the total certainty that if the whole world was a party he'd still find the kitchen.
She seemed to be stuck with him. The VIPs were all crowded around the open doors, where loud cheering indicated that the people of Lancre thought that Note Spelling was a nice name for a future queen.
'Perhaps you should just sit there and try to get a grip,' she said. 'There's going to be dancing later on.'
'Oh, I don't dance,' said Mightily Oats. 'Dancing is a snare to entrap the weak-willed.'
'Oh. Well, I suppose there's the barbecue outside...'