“Yes, but suppose Rabbit is out?”
“Or suppose I get stuck in his front door again, coming out, as I did once when his front door wasn’t big enough?”
“Because I know I’m not getting fatter, but his front door may be getting thinner.”
“So wouldn’t it be better if—”
And all the time he was saying things like this he was going more and more westerly, without thinking … until suddenly he found himself at his own front door again.
And it was eleven o’clock.
Which was Time-for-a-little-something. …
Half an hour later he was doing what he had always really meant to do, he was stumping off to Piglet’s house. And as he walked, he wiped his mouth with the back of his paw, and sang rather a fluffy song through the fur. It went like this:
I could spend a happy morning Seeing Piglet. And I couldn’t spend a happy morning Not seeing Piglet. And it doesn’t seem to matter If I don’t see Owl and Eeyore (or any of the others), And I’m not going to see Owl or Eeyore (or any of the others) Or Christopher Robin.
Written down, like this, it doesn’t seem a very good song, but coming through pale fawn fluff at about half-past eleven on a very sunny morning, it seemed to Pooh to be one of the best songs he had ever sung. So he went on singing it.
Piglet was busy digging a small hole in the ground outside his house.
“Hallo, Piglet,” said Pooh.
“Hallo, Pooh,” said Piglet, giving a jump of surprise. “I knew it was you.”
“So did I,” said Pooh. “What are you doing?”
“I’m planting a haycorn, Pooh, so that it can grow up into an oak-tree, and have lots of haycorns just outside the front door instead of having to walk miles and miles, do you see, Pooh?”