
An old newspaper was spread on the table and folded lengthwise. The two upper corners were brought towards the centre to make a triangle, and the loose strip below was turned upwards. After the back edge was folded as well, the middle could be opened into a wearable hat. If the sheet was the wrong size, the hat sagged or perched awkwardly, so another crease was added or the sides were pinched tighter. Methods varied by place, but the material was easy to find and a failed attempt could be unfolded without much loss.
Once the hat was worn, the craft became a game. A flattened peak might make it a military-style cap; pulled-out corners might turn it into a sailor’s hat. With several children wearing them, a captain, guard or boat operator could be appointed on the spot. There was no fixed script. Roles changed while children ran between a courtyard, corridor or bed. Sweat softened the paper, another player knocked it sideways, and it might tear quickly, yet another newspaper could begin the game again.
The value of such a paper toy was not its durability but the way making and pretending formed one activity. Folds gave the object a shape; a shared agreement gave it an identity. A household did not need to buy a complete costume for role play. A newspaper that had already been read could support a brief common world: economical material did not mean a thin game.
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