Jolly Joe always arrived at my neighborhood at exactly half past noon. The clang   of the bell on his red and black truck was then the sweetest sound in the world. Brightly colored stickers advertising his amazing kinds of treats could be found on all sides of his truck. The whole neighborhood would magically come to life. Holding a nickel  , I'd run to the back of the vehicle, where children were already gathering. Jolly Joe would jump out of his truck, the sun shining on his hair. He was an older man, short and round, with a pleasant face and a welcoming smile. I don't know how, but he knew us all by name, as well as which treats we preferred. My favorite was the Buried Treasure. By eating all the ice cream, you'd discover the treasure inside: a lion, a dog or even a funny clown -- printed onto a plastic stick. When it was finally my turn, he'd put his arm deep inside one of the boxes, and pause   for a moment, a puzzled look crossing his face. Then, suddenly, he'd pull it out: the Buried Treasure! I couldn't wait to enjoy the cool, sweet ice cream. As quickly as he arrived, it was time for Jolly Joe to go, leaving behind laughing, excited children with sticky hands and faces. Soon the sound of his clanging bell would slowly disappear in the distance. I always hated to see Jolly Joe go, because I knew the rest of the day would be as hot and boring as before. But I took some comfort in knowing that the next day he'd come round the corner at half past noon and once again spread his magic. Why did the author like the Buried Treasure best?
It gave great pleasure to his pet. It was the cheapest of all the treats. It contained something very interesting. It was the most delicious of all the treats.