. . .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. . .