The Wee Free Men

First you get the test, and then afterward you spend years findin’ out how you passed it. It’s a bit like life in that respect.”

this where I learn about the witches’ school?” said Tiffany.
There was a moment of silence.
“Witches’ school?” said Mistress Weatherwax.
“Um,” said Miss Tick.
“You were being metapahorrical, weren’t you?” said Tiffany.
“Metapahorrical?” said Mrs. Ogg, wrinkling her forehead.
“She means metaphorical,” mumbled Miss Tick.
“It’s like stories,” said Tiffany. “It’s all right. I worked it out. This is the school, isn’t it? The magic place? The world. Here. And you don’t realize it until you look. Do you know the pictsies think this world is heaven? We just don’t look. You can’t give lessons on witchcraft. Not properly. It’s all about how you are . . . you, I suppose.”

Big women were valued on the Chalk. Farmers liked big wives. Farmwork was hard, and there was no call for a wife who couldn’t carry a couple of piglets or a bale of hay