On Thursday, when it starts to freeze And hoarfrost twinkles on the trees, How very readily one sees That these are whose⁠—but whose are these?

On Friday⁠—

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” said Kanga, not waiting to hear what happened on Friday. “Just one more jump, Roo, dear, and then we really must be going.”

Rabbit gave Pooh a hurrying-up sort of nudge.

“Talking of Poetry,” said Pooh quickly, “have you ever noticed that tree right over there?”

“Where?” said Kanga. “Now, Roo⁠—”

“Right over there,” said Pooh, pointing behind Kanga’s back.