At this moment, another chicken decided that it was time to join the first.

Down it flew onto Mme Ngwe’s shoulder, and pecked at her beautiful seshoeshoe sleeve with the lovely corn pattern.

The lady next to Mme Ngwe had to put her head down onto the table, ‘ai, aai, aaaaii, he, he, heeeeeeee!’ she cackled.

Mme Ngwe flapped her napkin at the chicken.

‘Paaak, pak-pak-pak!’ it clucked, spread its wings and sat down right there on Mme Ngwe’s shoulder, holding on with its scratchy feet.

The other chickens decided to join the first two and down they flew. One flapped down onto Mme Ngwe’s other shoulder and the others clustered on her lap and started clucking and squawking and fluffing out their feathers to make themselves comfortable. You couldn’t see Mme Ngwe for all those chickens!

Even the guests at the far side of the tent were now laughing behind their hands, and the priest had to cover his face with his Bible.

By this time Mme Ngwe was so flustered and upset that she could not help herself. ‘Ooh, ooh, ooooooh, ai, aai, aaai!’ she shrieked, standing up and flapping her hands wildly. She stamped her feet and wiggled and waggled until everything about her wobbled like a giant seshoeshoe jelly.

She shook those chickens off her chest and shoulders and they flew down onto the tables where they started strutting up and down, flapping their wings and clucking, scattering cake and sweets and flowers all over the place.

Mme Ngwe dusted herself off and sat down again.

Unfortunately there was a chicken on her chair and when she lowered her large bottom onto it the chicken squawked at the top of its voice.

‘Whoooeeeeaaaaa!’ screeched Mme Ngwe leaping out of her chair in fright.

She lost her balance and toppled into Mme Pedi’s lap.

The chair was simply not strong enough for the two of them, and it cracked in half, dumping both aunts on the floor of the tent.