Tiffany wandered up to the rope, found a space, and sat down on the grass with Granny Weatherwax’s hat in front of her. She was aware of the other girls behind her, and also of a buzz or susurration of whispering spreading out into the crowd. “. . . She really did do it, too. . . . No, really . . . all the way to the desert. . . . Saw the dust . . . her boots were full, they say. . . .” Gossip spreads faster among witches than a bad cold.
