By seven the tissue paper had already learned to wait. Inside the ornament box a morning fitting room opened for glints. Guests sat down one at a time. The keeper handed out napkins of pine needle and asked, very politely, that no one hurry the neighboring gold.
We asked at the kiosk by the square. "I thought the box was leaking light," said the man who sells ribbons. "They were only trying on. A glint that rushes leaves the next bauble still dull, and then the tree looks as if it forgot a hello."
The next morning a sparrow came back and sat on the lid until one small glint finished dressing. After that the whole row shone a little kinder, and nobody skipped ahead.