Winnie the Pooh (10 page)

That was the first verse. When he had finished it, Eeyore didn’t actually say that he didn’t like it, so Pooh very kindly sang the second verse to him:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

A fish can’t whistle and neither can I.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie
.”

Eeyore still said nothing at all, so Pooh hummed the third verse quietly to himself:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

Why does a chicken, I don’t know why.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie
.”

“That’s right,” said Eeyore. “Sing. Umty-tiddly, umtytoo. Here we go gathering Nuts and May. Enjoy yourself.”

“I am,” said Pooh.

“Some can,” said Eeyore.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“
Is
anything the matter?”

“You seem so sad, Eeyore.”

“Sad? Why should I be sad? It’s my birthday. The happiest day of the year.”

“Your birthday?” said Pooh in great surprise.

“Of course it is. Can’t you see? Look at all the presents I have had.” He waved a foot from side to side. “Look at the birthday cake. Candles and pink sugar.”

Pooh looked—first to the right and then to the left.

“Presents?” said Pooh. “Birthday cake?” said Pooh. “
Where?
”

“Can’t you see them?”

“No,” said Pooh.

“Neither can I,” said Eeyore. “Joke,” he explained. “Ha ha!”

Pooh scratched his head, being a little puzzled by all this.

“But is it really your birthday?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Oh! Well, Many happy returns of the day, Eeyore.”

“And many happy returns to you, Pooh Bear.”

“But it isn’t
my
birthday.”

“No, it’s mine.”

“But you said ‘Many happy returns’—”

“Well, why not? You don’t always want to be miserable on my birthday, do you?”

“Oh, I see,” said Pooh.

“It’s bad enough,” said Eeyore, almost breaking down, “being miserable myself, what with no presents and no cake and no candles, and no proper notice taken of me at all, but if everybody else is going to be miserable too—”

This was too much for Pooh. “Stay there!” he called to Eeyore, as he turned and hurried back home as quick as he could; for he felt that he must get poor Eeyore a present of
some
sort at once, and he could always think of a proper one afterwards.

Outside his house he found Piglet, jumping up and down trying to reach the knocker.

“Hallo, Piglet,” he said.

“Hallo, Pooh,” said Piglet.

“What are
you
trying to do?”

“I was trying to reach the knocker,” said Piglet. “I just came round—”

“Let me do it for you,” said Pooh kindly. So he reached up and knocked at the door. “I have just seen Eeyore,” he began, “and poor Eeyore is in a Very Sad Condition, because it’s his birthday, and nobody has taken any notice of it, and he’s very Gloomy—you know what Eeyore is—and there he was, and—What a long time whoever lives here is answering this door.” And he knocked again.

“But Pooh,” said Piglet, “it’s your own house!”

“Oh!” said Pooh. “So it is,” he said. “Well, let’s go in.”

So in they went. The first thing Pooh did was to go to the cupboard to see if he had quite a small jar of honey left; and he had, so he took it down.

“I’m giving this to Eeyore,” he explained, “as a present. What are
you
going to give?”

“Couldn’t I give it too?” said Piglet. “From both of us?”

“No,” said Pooh. “That would
not
be a good plan.”

“All right, then, I’ll give him a balloon. I’ve got one left from my party. I’ll go and get it now, shall I?”

“That, Piglet, is a
very
good idea. It is just what Eeyore wants to cheer him up. Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon.”

So off Piglet trotted; and in the other direction went Pooh, with his jar of honey.

It was a warm day, and he had a long way to go. He hadn’t gone more than half-way when a sort of funny feeling began to creep all over him. It began at the tip of his nose and trickled all through him and out at the soles of his feet. It was just as if somebody inside him were saying, “Now then, Pooh, time for a little something.”

“Dear, dear” said Pooh, “I didn’t know it was as late as that.” So he sat down and took the top off his jar of honey. “Lucky I brought this with me,” he thought. “Many a bear going out on a warm day like this would never have thought of bringing a little something with him.” And he began to eat.

“Now let me see,” he thought, as he took his last lick of the inside of the jar, ‘’where was I going? Ah, yes, Eeyore.” He got up slowly.

And then, suddenly, he remembered. He had eaten Eeyore’s present!

“
Bother!
” said Pooh. “What
shall
I do? I
must
give him
something
.”

For a little while he couldn’t think of anything. Then he thought: “Well, it’s a very nice pot, even if there’s no honey in it, and if I washed it clean, and got somebody to write ‘
A Happy Birthday
’ on it, Eeyore could keep things in it, which might be Useful.” So, as he was just passing the Hundred Acre Wood, he went inside to call on Owl, who lived there.

“Good morning, Owl,” he said.

“Good morning, Pooh,” said Owl.

“Many happy returns of Eeyore’s birthday,” said Pooh.

“Oh, is that what it is?”

“What are you giving him, Owl?”

“What are you giving him, Pooh?”

“I’m giving him a Useful Pot to Keep Things In, and I wanted to ask you—”

“Is this it?” said Owl, taking it out of Pooh’s paw.

“Yes, and I wanted to ask you—”

“Somebody has been keeping honey in it,” said Owl.

“You can keep
anything
in it,” said Pooh earnestly. “It’s Very Useful like that. And I wanted to ask you—”

“You ought to write ‘
A Happy Birthday
’ on it.”

“
That
was what I wanted to ask you,” said Pooh. “Because my spelling is Wobbly. It’s good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places. Would
you
write ‘A Happy Birthday’ on it for me?”

“It’s a nice pot,” said Owl, looking at it all round.

“Couldn’t I give it too? From both of us?”

“No,” said Pooh. “That would
not
be a good plan. Now I’ll just wash it first, and then you can write on it.”

Well, he washed the pot out, and dried it, while Owl licked the end of his pencil, and wondered how to spell “birthday.”

“Can you read, Pooh?” he asked, a little anxiously. “There’s a notice about knocking and ringing outside my door, which Christopher Robin wrote. Could you read it?”

“Christopher Robin told me what it said, and
then
I could.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what
this
says, and then you’ll be able to.”

So Owl wrote…and this is what he wrote:

HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY.