'A pillowcase?' said the Senior Wrangler, sharply. 'Well, you can't get much in a stocking,' said the Dean. 'Yes, but a whole pillowcase?' the Senior Wrangler insisted. 'Yes. What of it?'
'Is it just me, or is that a rather greedy and selfish way to behave? In my family we just hung up very small socks,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'A sugar pig, a toy soldier, a couple of oranges and that was it. Hah, turns out people with whole pillowcases were cornering the market, eh?'
'Shut up and stop squabbling, both of you,' said Ridcully. 'There must be a simple way to check up. How can you tell if the Hogfather exists?'
'Someone's drunk the sherry, there's sooty footprints on the carpet, sleigh tracks on the roof and your pillowcase is full of presents,' said the Dean. 'Hah, pillowcase,' said the Senior Wrangler darkly. 'Hah. I expect your family were the stuck-up sort that didn't even open their presents until after Hogswatch dinner, eh? One of them with a big snooty Hogswatch tree in the hall?'
'What if---' Ridcully began, but he was too late. 'Well?' said the Dean. 'Of course we waited until after lunch---'
'You know, it really used to wind me right up, people with big snooty Hogswatch trees. And I just bet you had one of those swanky fancy nutcrackers like a big thumbscrew,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'Some people had to make do with the coal hammer out of the outhouse, of course. And had dinner in the middle of the day instead of lah-di-dah posh dinner in the evening.'
'I can't help it if my family had money,' said the Dean, and that might have defused things a bit had he not added, 'and standards.'
'And big pillowcases!' shouted the Senior Wrangler, bouncing up and down in rage. 'And I bet you bought your holly, eh?'
The Dean raised his eyebrows. 'Of course! We didn't go creeping around the country pinching it out of other people's hedges, like some people did,' he snapped. 'That's traditional! That's part of the fun!'
'Celebrating Hogswatch with stolen greenery?' Ridcully put his hand over his eyes. The word for this, he had heard, was 'cabin fever'. When people had been cooped up for too long in the dark days of the winter, they always tended to get on one another's nerves, although there was probably a school of thought that would hold that spending your time in a university with more than five thousand known rooms, a huge library, the best kitchens in the city, its own brewery, dairy, extensive wine cellar, laundry, barber shop, cloisters and skittle alley was testing the definition of 'cooped up' a little. Mind you, wizards could get on one another's nerves in opposite corners of a very large field. 'Just shut up, will you?' he said. 'It's Hogswatch! That's not the time for silly arguments, all right?'
'Oh, yes it is,' said the Chair of Indefinite Studies glumly. 'It's exactly the time for silly arguments. In our family we were lucky to get through dinner without a reprise of What A Shame Henry Didn't Go Into Business With Our Ron. Or Why Hasn't Anyone Taught Those Kids To Use A Knife? That was another favourite.'
'And the sulks,' said Ponder Stibbons. 'Oh, the sulks,' said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. 'Not a proper Hogswatch without everyone sitting staring at different walls.'
'The games were worse,' said Ponder. 'Worse than the kids hitting one another with their toys, do you think? Not a proper Hogswatch afternoon without wheels and bits of broken dolly everywhere and everyone whining. Assault and battery included.'
'We had a game called Hunt the Slipper,' said Ponder. 'Someone hid a slipper. And then we had to find it. And then we had a row.'
'It's not really bad,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. 'I mean, not proper Hogswatch bad, unless everyone's wearing a paper hat. There's always that bit, isn't there, when someone's horrible great-aunt puts on a paper hat and smirks at everyone because she's being so bohemian.'
'I'd forgotten about the paper hats,' said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. 'Oh, dear.'
'And then later on someone'll suggest a board game,' said Ponder. 'That's right. Where no one exactly remembers all the rules.'
'Which doesn't stop someone suggesting that you play for pennies.'
'And five minutes later there's two people not speaking to one another for the rest of their lives because of tuppence.'
'And some horrible little kid--'
'I know, I know! Some little kid who's been allowed to stay up wins everyone's money by being a nasty little cut-throat swot!'
'Right!'
'Er . . .' said Ponder, who rather suspected that he had been that child. 'And don't forget the presents,' said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, as if reading off some internal list of gloom. 'How ... how full of potential they seem in all that paper, how pregnant with possibilities ... and then you open them and basically the wrapping paper was more interesting and you have to say "How thoughtful, that will come in handy!' It's not better to give than to receive, in my opinion, it's just less embarrassing.'
'I've worked out,' said the Senior Wrangler, 'that over the years I have been a net exporter of Hogswatch presents--'
'Oh, everyone is,' said the Chair. 'You spend a fortune on other people and what you get when all the paper is cleared away is one slipper that's the wrong colour and a book about earwax.' Ridcully sat in horrified amazement. He'd always enjoyed Hogswatch, every bit of it. He'd enjoyed seeing ardent relatives, he'd enjoyed the food, he'd been good at games like Chase My Neighbour Up The Passage and Hooray Jolly Tinker. He was always the first to don a paper hat. He felt that paper hats lent a special festive air to the occasion. And he always very carefully read the messages on Hogswatch cards and found time for a few kind thoughts about the sender. Listening to his wizards was like watching someone kick apart a doll's house. 'At least the Hogswatch cracker mottoes are fun...?' he ventured. They all turned to look at him, and then turned away again. 'If you have the sense of humour of a wire coathanger,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'Oh dear,' said Ridcully. 'Then perhaps there isn't a Hogfather if all you chaps are sitting around with long faces. He's not the sort to let people go around being miserable!'
'Ridcully, he's just some old winter god,' said the Senior Wrangler wearily. 'He's not the Cheerful Fairy or anything.' The Lecturer in Recent Runes raised his chin from his hands. 'What Cheerful Fairy?'
'Oh, its just something my granny used to go on about if it was a wet afternoon and we were getting on her nerves,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'She'd say “I'll call the Cheerful Fairy if you're. . .” ' He stopped, looking guilty. The Archchancellor held a hand to his ear in a theatrical gesture denoting 'Hush. What was that I heard?'
'Someone tinkled,' he said. 'Thank you, Senior Wrangler.'
'Oh no,' the Senior Wrangler moaned. 'No, no, no!' They listened for a moment. 'We might have got away with it,' said Ponder. 'I didn't hear anything - . .'
'Yes, but you can just imagine her, can't you?' said the Dean. 'The moment you said it, I had this picture in my mind. She's going to have a whole bag of word games, for one thing. Or she'll suggest we go outdoors for our health.' The wizards shuddered. They weren't against the outdoors, it was simply their place in it they objected to. 'Cheerfulness has always got me down,' said the Dean. 'Welt if some wretched little ball of cheerfulness turns up I shan't have it for one,' said the Senior Wrangler, folding his arms. 'I've put up with monsters and trolls and big green things with teeth, so I'm not sitting still for any kind of--'