"I just found it," he said. "I thought it ought to be useful. I just picked it
"Pooh," said Christopher Robin solemnly, "the Expedition is over. You have found
the North Pole!"
Eeyore was sitting with his tail in the water when they all got back to him.
"Tell Roo to be quick, somebody," he said. "My tail's getting cold. I don't want to mention it, but I just mention it. I don't want to complain, but there it is.
Eeyore took his tail out of the water, and swished it from side to side.
"As I expected," he said. "Lost all feeling. Numbed it. That's what it's done.
Numbed it. Well, as long as nobody minds, I suppose it's all right."
"Poor old Eeyore! I'll dry it for you," said Christopher Robin, and he took out
"Thank you, Christopher Robin. You're the only one who seems to understand about tails. They don't think-that's what's the matter with some of these others.
They've no imagination. A tail isn't a tail to them, it's just a Little Bit
Extra at the back."
"Never mind, Eeyore," said Christopher Robin, rubbing his hardest. "Is that
"It's feeling more like a tail perhaps. It Belongs again, if you know what I
"Hullo, Eeyore," said Pooh, coming up to them with his pole.
"Hullo, Pooh. Thank you for asking, but I shall be able to use it again in a day
"I wasn't talking about anything," said Pooh, looking puzzled.
"My mistake again. I thought you were saying how sorry you were about my tail,
"No," said Pooh. "That wasn't me," he said. He thought for a little and then
"Pooh's found the North Pole," said Christopher Robin. "Isn't that lovely?"
"Is that it?" said Eeyore.
"Yes," said Christopher Robin.
"Yes," said Pooh.
"Oh!" said Eeyore. "Well, anyhow-it didn't rain," he said.
They stuck the pole in the ground, and Christopher Robin tied a message on to it:
Then they all went home again. And I think, but I am not quite sure, that Roo had a hot bath and went straight to bed. But Pooh went back to his own house, and feeling very proud of what he had done, had a little something to revive
IT rained and it rained and it rained. Piglet told himself that never in all his life, and he was goodness knows how old-three, was it, or four?-never had he seen so much rain. Days and days and days.
"If only," he thought, as he looked out of the window, "I had been in Pooh's house, or Christopher Robin's house, or Rabbit's house when it began to rain, then I should have had Company all this time, instead of being here all alone, with nothing to do except wonder when it will stop." And he imagined himself with Pooh, saying, "Did you ever see such rain, Pooh?" and Pooh saying, "Isn't it awful, Piglet?" and Piglet saying, "I wonder how it is over Christopher
Robin's way," and Pooh saying, "I should think poor old Rabbit is about flooded out by this time." It would have been jolly to talk like this, and really, it wasn't much good having anything exciting like floods, if you couldn't share