Woman's small hat

Usage examples of toque.

Very still, as if fearing to betray itself by sound or movement, was her figure in its blue-green frock, and a brimless toque of brown straw, with two purplish roses squashed together into a band of darker velvet.

Removing his toque, Nfam blew imaginary dust from it, smoothed its feather, put it back on at a rakish angle.

She undid her seat belt, pulled her toque over her ears, and grabbed the cat carrier from its place behind the seat.

She tossed the toque behind the seat and ran her fingers up through her hair, dislodging most of the red and white.

He snatched up his plumed toque and, plopping it upon his graying head, rose to his feet, ready to storm after the wayward fellow.

The wet plumes of his toque had drooped downward beneath his hooked nose, causing him to spit between gasps as he tried to expell the limp ends from his mouth.

Sweeping off his toque, he halted beside her mount, seeming as hesitant as a young had with his first love.

The costume of wine-coloured velvet trimmed with mole-skin, a small close toque to match, was one of the most appropriate and attractive models of 1916-1917.

He gave a cry of rapture when Valentine at last made her appearance gowned in a delicious travelling dress, with a cavalier toque on her head.

Her cloth costume, which displayed to advantage her slender waist and graceful bust, was of simple but elegant cut, and was adorned with superb trimmings of black fox, which matched her toque and a little satin-lined muff, which from time to time she raised to her cheek to ward off the biting wind.

Staring at that little head which he admired so much, upright and unmoving, in its dark straw toque against the cushion, he would become suddenly alert.

And the little pointed toque that the man wore on his head even looked like the head-dress of the god.

And she proceeded to array herself in her most youthful summer dress, which was also the choicest of her stock, taking the utmost pains to match toque and gloves, while full of indignation against his friends for so shamefully neglecting him.

Three figures, muffled in dark wool mackinaws and toques, were approaching along the path from where the boardwalk ended.

Such is the demented nature of the universe that I was too weak to properly respond to my being hit on by carloads of Betties and Veronicasall except for the cheeky Cheryl Anderson who gave me 'manual release' the day I lost my eyebrows, followed by a flood of tears and the snapping of Polaroids in which I wear a knit toque.