[ tinsel. logic dictates that the tinsel must indeed be the pretty sheening wreaths 'round the prickled branches. and so sansa finds she does not have to ask. she guesses, instead. ]

Christmas. [ she remembers the word. she tastes it on her tongue and imagines it like candied oranges. ] When is it celebrated? You ought to find a good tree and make it just as pretty. Here in the castle. I would like to see it.