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...'

     'Hello!! Hello !!'

     The  voice  was  the  kind  of  voice  that  reads  suitable stories to children. Every vowel was beautifully rounded. And they could hear the extra exclamation marks, born of a sort of desperate despairing jollity, slot into place. They turned.

     The Cheerful Fairy was quite short and plump in a tweed skirt and shoes so  sensible  they could do their  own tax returns, and was pretty much like the first  teacher you get  at school, the one who  has special training  in dealing with nervous incontinence and little boys whose contribution  to the wonderful  world  of  sharing  consists largely  of  hitting  a  small  girl repeatedly  over  the head with a wooden horse. In  fact,  this picture  was helped  by  the whistle on a string around her neck and a general impression that at any moment she would clap her hands.

     The  tiny gauzy wings just visible  on her back were probably just  for show, but the wizards kept on staring at her shoulder.

     'Hello...' she  said again, but a lot more  uncertainly. She gave them a suspicious look. 'You're rather big  boys,' she said, as if they'd become so in order to spite her. She blinked. 'It's my job to chase those blues away,' she added, apparently following a memorized script. Then she seemed to rally a bit and  went on.  'So  chins up, everyone,  and lets see a lot  of bright shining faces!!'

     Her  gaze met that of the Senior Wrangler, who had probably never had a bright shining face in

     his entire life. He specialized  in  dull, sullen ones.  The one he was wearing now would have won prizes.

     'Excuse me,  madam,' said  Ridcully. 'But  is that  a chicken  on  your shoulder?'

     'It's, er, its, er, it's the Blue Bird of Happiness,' said the Cheerful Fairy. Her voice now  had the slightly  shaking tone  of someone who doesn't quite believe what she has just said but is going to go on saying it anyway, just in case saying it will eventually make it true.

     'I  beg  your  pardon,  but  it  is  a  chicken. A live  chicken,' said Ridcully. 'It just went cluck.'

     'It is blue,' she said hopelessly.

     'Well, that at least is true,' Ridcully conceded, as kindly as he could manage.  'Left  to  myself, I  expect  I'd  have  imagined  a slightly  more streamlined Blue Bird of Happiness, but I can't actually fault you there.'

     The Cheerful Fairy coughed nervously and fiddled  with the  buttons  on her sensible woolly jumper.

     'How  about  a  nice game  to get us  all in the  mood?'  she said.  'A guessing  game, perhaps? Or a painting  competition? There  may  be  a small prize for the winner.'

     'Madam,  we're  wizards,'  said  the  Senior  Wrangler.  'We  don't  do cheerful.'

     'Charades?' said the Cheerful  Fairy. 'Or perhaps  you've been  playing them already? How about a sing-song? Who knows "Row Row Row Your Boat"?'

     Her bright  little smile hit  the group scowl of the assembled wizards. 'We don't want to be Mr Grumpy, do we?' she added hopefully.

     'Yes,' said the Senior Wrangler.

     The Cheerful Fairy sagged, and then patted frantically at her shapeless sleeves  until she  tugged out a balled-up  handkerchief.  She dabbed at her eyes.

     'It's all going wrong  again, isn't it?' she said, her chin  trembling. 'No one ever wants to be cheerful these days, and I really do try. I've made a Joke Book and I've got three boxes of clothes for charades and ... and ... and  whenever I  try to cheer people up they all  look  embarrassed  ... and really I do make an effort . .

     She blew her nose loudly.

     Even the Senior Wrangler had the grace to look embarrassed.

     'Er ...' he began.

     'Would  it  hurt  anyone just  occasionally  to  try to be a little bit cheerful?' said the Cheerful Fairy.

     'Er ... in what way?' said the Senior Wrangler, feeling wretched.

     'Well,  there's so many nice  things  to be cheerful about,'  said  the Cheerful Fairy, blowing her nose again.

     'Er ... raindrops and sunsets and that sort  of thing?' said the Senior Wrangler, managing some sarcasm, but they could tell his heart wasn't in it. 'Er, would you like to borrow my handkerchief? It's nearly fresh.'

     'Why don't you get the lady a nice sherry?' said Ridcully. 'And some corn for her chicken ...'

     'Oh, I never drink alcohol,' said the Cheerful Fairy, horrified.

     'Really?' said Ridcully. 'We find  it's something to be cheerful about. Mr Stibbons ... would you be so kind as to step over here for a moment?'

     He beckoned him up close.

     'There's got  to be  a  lot of  belief sloshing  around to  let  her be created,' he said. 'She's a  good  fourteen stone,  if I'm any judge.  If we wanted to contact  the  Hogfather,  how would  we  go about  it?  Letter  up chimney?'

     'Yes, but not tonight, sir,' said Ponder. 'He'll be out delivering.'

     'No telling where he'll be, then,' said Ridcully. 'Blast.'

     'Of course, he might not have come here yet,' said Ponder.

     'Why should he come here?' said Ridcully.

     The Librarian pulled the blankets over himself and curled up.

     As an orang-utan he  hankered for  the warmth  of  the rainforest.  The problem was that he'd never even seen a rainforest,  having been turned into an  orang-utan when  he  was already a  fully  grown human. Something in his bones knew about it, though, and didn't like the cold of winter at  all. But he was also a librarian in those same bones and  he  flatly refused to allow fires to be lit in the library. As a result, pillows and blankets went missing  everywhere else  in the University and ended up in a sort of cocoon in the reference section, in which the ape lurked during the worst of the winter.