By breakfast the carousel had a new row of tiny brass plates, each no bigger than a biscuit. We asked at the lemonade stand what they were for. "Names," said the girl wiping cups. "The horses wanted to be introduced properly. Yesterday they were just the brown one and the one with the flower. Today they are Maple, Biscuit, and Sir Cloud."
A boy with a paper ticket practiced the greetings out loud before the music started, and a note in the park keeper's little book said the horses seemed to stand a fraction taller once they had been addressed. Someone else left a shorter line: "Said hello to Maple. She waited for me. I waited for her. Then we went around."
The keeper posted a polite card by the steps: please greet your horse by name, then enjoy the ride. The next morning the same boy came back with a daisy for Sir Cloud and asked whether there were still nameplates left for the benches.