“Don’t you understand?” Vizzini said almost loud enough for the castle guards to hear. “My plan was entirely dependent upon one of us being a female! Unless Fezzik’s been hiding a wedding gown in his size, which is highly improbable, you’re just going to have to shave your mustache.”

“Would this do?” Fezzik produced an enormous white dress and pulled it down over his head.

Inigo blinked. Vizzini was agape. Fezzik struggled to fasten the veil.

“Where in Florin did you get that?” asked Vizzini.

“At Miracle Max’s. It fit so nice, he said I could keep it.”

“If I were an imbecile, I would ask you about that. But I am clearly not an imbecile, and we have a castle to raid. So in the interest of time, and in accordance with my uncanny powers of judgment, let’s get down there, shall we?”

“Well put,” said Inigo.

“Why thank you.”

“Let’s go save Buttercup!”

“Who?”

“The princess.”

“She’s in there?”

“She is. And she’s going to be married in twenty minutes.”

“Would you mind telling me why either of you care?”