Gather round, ladeees 'n' genalmen. Roll up!

In the red corner, we have Mr. Pomp... Mayor Harper, mayor and snob extraordinaire, weighing in at two pigs and a donkey. In the blue corner, we have Edna, witch and occasional teapot collector, weighing in at two pigs, three mice and a chicken.

Mayor Harper stopped dead in his tracks. Well, he wasn't dead, and he hadn't made any tracks – any dirt that had been inconsiderate enough to fall on the path immediately jumped off (it could get rather angry when pushed), but his pause was fairly pronounced. He was not, as has been noted, stupid. The sight of Edna striding from the depths of her house with thunder thundering across her face was enough to stop the rain in its fall or the sun in its shine. Mayor Roly stopped in his poley. When he saw the other two wicked witches crawl out behind their sister, he very nearly turned on his tail and did his best to run. His better judgement didn't get the better of him in this case, so he stood his ground and waited.

"Mayor."

"Edna."

"Hello."

"Hello indeed."

"Well, that's the unpleasantries over with. To what do I owe this distinct pleasure?"

Edna emphasised her sarcasm with a little wave of her finger. It had the desired effect and Harpy took a step back. He then remembered he was an idiot and stepped forward again. He was not going to be scared off by a silly woman who just happened to be able to give him a second head. That wouldn't have been so bad, but the first head wasn't much good to begin with.

Edna smiled. He was good, she'd give him that. Harpy might not have been the quickest shake of the lamb's tail, but he was plainly courageous. Either that or he really was the dunderhead that everyone believed. Puddlebrain stepped to her right hand side and Gemini flanked her left. They were smiling too. Edna knew they would leave this up to her, but their added menace was making this much more fun. Harpy's face slowly changed from the rosy red it had been to a distinctly sickly white. The thick thatch of jet-black hair on his voluminous head, a present from Edna only weeks before, served to make his pallid skin look like an anaemic snowman's. All he needed was a carrot nose and a couple of lumps of coal for eyes.

Hmmm, thought Edna. That was a thought...

"I've come to instruct you to cease your meddling magic." The mayor took another step forward. He refused to be intimidated by the likes of these. He would show them!

"Have you now. How interesting. Hear that, sisters? He's going to instruct us to stop using our magic."

Gemini and Puddlebrain laughed quietly. They were nowhere near as forceful as their sister, and realised it was her fault that things had come to this, but it was rather funny. The mayor was going to stop them. The mayor! Puddlebrain, years before, had needed to show him how to tie his own shoelaces and he had been so useless at it he had to start wearing buckled shoes. That was when he was a young man, let alone a child.

"How precisely, do you expect to do that then?"

Edna stepped towards the mayor. She didn't need to be close to him to use her magic, and could easily have done without the smell of sweat and baked beans that emanated from his Pudginess, but effect was all important here. He and his loyal band of quivering wrecks needed to be shown - not who was boss, but who was in charge. It wasn't the same thing. The witches could have been across the road, down the street and around the corner and still have turned the mayor into a frog if they'd wished. Harpy was about to be shown that you never cross the road to cross a witch.

They wondered occasionally why the villagers were always so afraid of being turned into frogs. As far as the sisters were concerned, no witch had ever cast such a spell. Witches liked frogs. They certainly wouldn't taint the frog population by adding a few people. What a horrendous thought! Still, it was a rumour that added a little spice to the tales of witches and their ways.

"Oh, do not underestimate me," Harpy said. He turned and smiled at his followers, a little dismayed that they seemed to have backed away from the fence. Oh well, he thought. They would soon see what he was made of. He turned back to face the witches.

Edna was right in front of him, her nose a nostril hair's breadth away from his.

"Boo!"

Harpy did a very unmayorlike thing then. He squealed. Farmer Hopkins' piglets, all eight of them, couldn't make a sound like that even if they were in a singing contest where the Grand Prize was to have as much sloppy mud as you could wallow in. He also quivered. He shook like a rag in a storm. Luckily, well sort of, stupidity took control and he calmed down. He was the MAYOR! She was just a... a witch!

"Boo yourself, witch."

Edna raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. So he was denser than Three-Mile Forest. Amazing. She had thought that was just a rumour. She smiled. This would be even more fun. The witch turned and walked slowly back to her siblings.

"What is there to underestimate, Mayor?" she said. "You were only elected because the villagers are a bunch of lazy fools who couldn't care less if a donkey led them, something which would doubtless be an improvement on you."

There were grumbles from the gathering outside the garden. They didn't seem to appreciate being called lazy fools. Gemini and Puddlebrain gasped at their sister's audacity. They assumed she would simply cast a spell and be back in time for afternoon tea. Mayor Harper stepped forward and opened his mouth. He shut it again when he realised he couldn't think of anything to say.

"You dare to come here and threaten me?" Edna continued. She was enjoying herself and it was a fairly safe bet she would have continued even if she had been struck by lightning. "Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am? I mended your father's broken leg. I helped nurse your grandmother. I stopped your idiot of a great-grandfather from marrying his pet goat! Obviously you have inherited his great intellect. So tell me, Mayor. What is there to underestimate?"

Edna's sisters were stunned. They had never seen Edna quite like this. It was hilarious and frightening at the same time and they didn't quite know what to do. Harpy, meanwhile, had progressively turned deeper and deeper shades of crimson. He opened his mouth three times as if he was going to say something, then shut it each time. His mouth wanted to speak, but his brain couldn't quite come up with anything meaningful. All he managed was a kind of dribbling, gargling sound. There was only one thing he could do, and Edna saw exactly what it was going to be. He couldn't win on a war of words, and he would certainly lose a battle of spells, so a physical attack was all that remained.

Three streets and a fountain away, the village clock chimed.

Mayor Harper breathed in, making him look like an inflated balloon ready to pop.

The clock chimed once more.

Edna raised her finger. She was going to forgo tradition and actually give Harpy green skin, bug eyes, a long tongue and a voice that could only say 'Ribbit,' a word much more intelligent than most that issued from his lips. She would turn him into a frog.

The village clock, an ornate and beautiful piece set in a graceful, if ageing, tower of intricately carved willow, struck a third time.

It was three o'clock, to those that didn't make it up as they went along.

Harpy, despite his impressive bulk, made to surge forward at Edna. Unfortunately, between the grand ol' hours of three and seven thirty, he couldn't actually go forward, surging or otherwise. He fell backwards, tripping over his own feet and landing in an untidy heap at the foot of the gate.

Edna had already flicked her finger before she realised what had happened. The spell streamed from her hand to where the mayor had been a second before. A family of silverfish had been having a quiet birthday get-together in the short grass by the edge of the path. The spell hit them squarely, reflected off them in a wide spread, and flew straight back to its source. It hit the three sisters full on.

Mayor Harpy didn't wait to see what effect it might have. He, finally, realised he wasn't as invincible as he had thought and scrambled to his feet. He and his followers, those that hadn't had the sense to quietly return to their homes already, made haste their retreat. Nothing remained of them but a few chicken bones from Henry Pesterdear, a man who even took snacks in the bath with him. He and Gemini would get on very well in years to come.

The silverfish interrupted their party to briefly comment on the fact that they were no longer silver, but what a lovely shade of green they had turned, before returning to the festivities at hand.

Edna, Gemini and Puddlebrain stood in stunned silence, watching the quickly retreating figures quickly retreat. Gemini's tongue snapped out and caught a passing fly, which she gulped down hungrily.

"Ribbit," said Edna.

Indeed, thought Puddlebrain. "Ribbit!" she said.

The trio turned and hopped back indoors. The door closed behind them.

It was two weeks, three days and seventeen hours (or thereabouts in witch-time) before Gemini could eat bladderwrack stew with custard dumplings again. It was another four days before they could walk without hopping and hitting their heads on the low ceilings and a good five days beyond that before any of them could say anything other than "Ribbit."