'That's nice,' she said. 'Always looks good, a big turnout. But.'

'I beg your pardon?' said Letice.

'I said "but",' said Nanny, "cos someone's going to say "but", right? This little chat has got a big "but" coming up. I can tell.'

She knew this was flying in the face of protocol. There should be at least seven more minutes of small talk before anyone got around to the point, but Letice's presence was getting on her nerves.

'It's about Esme Weatherwax,' said Gammer Beavis.

'Yes?' said Nanny, without surprise.

'I suppose she's entering?'

'Never known her stay away.'

Letice sighed.

'I suppose you ... couldn't persuade her to . .. not to enter this year?'

Nanny looked shocked.

'With an axe, you mean?'

In unison, the three witches sat back.

'You see -' Gammer began, a bit shamefaced.

'Frankly, Mrs Ogg,' said Letice, 'it is very hard to get other people to enter when they know that Miss Weatherwax is entering. She always wins.'

'Yes,' said Nanny. 'It's a competition.'

'But she always wins!'

'So?'

'In other types of competition,' said Letice, 'one is normally only allowed to win for three years in a row and then one takes a back seat for a while.'

'Yeah, but this is witching,' said Nanny. 'The rules is different.'

'How so?'

'There ain't none.'

Letice twitched her skirt. 'Perhaps it is time there were,' she said.

'Ah,' said Nanny. 'And you just going to go up and tell Esme that? You up for this, Gammer?'

Gammer Beavis didn't meet her gaze. Old Mother Dismass was gazing at last week.

'I understand Miss Weatherwax is a very proud woman,' said Letice.

Nanny Ogg puffed at her pipe again.

'You might as well say the sea is full of water,' she said.