By nine the ice cream kiosk had a second, much smaller counter: a tray of hats no larger than bottle caps. Each scoop received one before it ever met a cone. The vendor, who would not be rushed, matched ribbons to flavors as if introducing cousins at a picnic.
We asked in the queue. A boy with a paper napkin said pistachio had chosen a green brim and then sat a little taller. In the gratitude notebook someone had written that chocolate looks modest in brown straw, and that the hat should stay on until the last bite, or at least until the park bench.
The hats themselves are simple. They rest on the scoop, they keep the sun from hurrying the cream, and they nod when a customer says thank you. A day later the same woman came back for vanilla, because yesterday the cream-colored ribbon had waved first.