Excuse me, miss, but you seem to have something on your head. . .
Ah, forgive me. I see now; it is merely your hat:
And oh, look! It's the Mad Hatter's charming wife, the Maniacal Milliner:
She throws the most delightful tea parties, I hear. . . The sort of fancy affairs where you might run into the likes of Ms. Vaguely-Ethnic Hat:
. . . Or even (if you're most fortunate) Mrs. Bobble-Stitch Volcano-Head. (A very old family.)
Ooh, excuse me just one teensy little moment, won't you?
--Oh, gir-rels! I think I've actually spotted something unexpected on your heads, this time. Two mammoth butterflies, if I'm not mistaken. . .
Oh, just bows. . . So sorry. Awfully smashing sweaters you have there, though. Don't let me keep you, dears. Run along home to mummy!
. . . Well, I'm sure I didn't mean to cause offense, but did you ever see such unflattering things? One has to be so careful when selecting hats and bows, hasn't one? It's so easy to end up looking perfectly ridiculous, isn't it?
Yes. That's why I prefer to go hatless: