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. . .my hat--I’m not quite sure what kind it is--is all scrunched up. I hold it in my
hands.
I am looking for a hat-repairer. I see something like a booth in a fair or some such
thing: a frame of wood, but the walls only go up half-way. There is no roof.
Trying to get to it, I find I am going uphill. Not only this, but there seems to be
snow on the ground.
It is slippery!
I am told they will repair my hat. This is good. But it will take a while. In the
meantime, I can get a replacement hat from the booth next to the hat-repairers.
I am trying to decide which one of the six replacement hats to take. . .