Owl coughed in an unadmiring sort of way, and said that, if Pooh was sure that was all, they could now give their minds to the Problem of Escape.

“Because,” said Owl, “we can’t go out by what used to be the front door. Something’s fallen on it.”

“But how else can you go out?” asked Piglet anxiously.

“That is the Problem, Piglet, to which I am asking Pooh to give his mind.”

Pooh sat on the floor which had once been a wall, and gazed up at the ceiling which had once been another wall, with a front door in it which had once been a front door, and tried to give his mind to it.

“Could you fly up to the letterbox with Piglet on your back?” he asked.