ONE  day  when Pooh Bear had nothing else to do, he thought he would do something, so he went round to  Piglet's  house  to see  what  Piglet was doing. It was still snowing as he stumped over the white forest track, and he  expected  to  find  Piglet warming  his  toes in front of his fire, but to his surprise he saw that the door was open, and the more he looked  inside  the more Piglet wasn't there.

        "He's  out,"  said Pooh sadly. "That's what it is. He's not in. I shall have to go a  fast  Thinking  Walk  by  myself. Bother!"
        But  first  he  thought that he would knock very loudly just to make quite sure . . . and while he  waited  for  Piglet not  to  answer,  he jumped up and down to keep warm, and a hum came suddenly into his head, which seemed to him  a  Good  Hum, such as is Hummed Hopefully to Others.

            The more it snows
                        (Tiddely pom),
            The more it goes
                        (Tiddely pom),
            The more it goes
                        (Tiddely pom)
                On snowing.
            And nobody knows
                        (Tiddely pom),
            How cold my toes
                        (Tiddely pom),
            How cold my toes
                        (Tiddely pom),
                Are growing.

        "So  what  I'll  do," said Pooh, "is I'll do this. I'll just go home first and see what the time is, and  perhaps  I'll put  a  muffler  round my neck, and then I'll go and see Eeyore and sing it to him."
        He hurried back to his own house; and his mind  was  so busy  on  the  way  with  the hum that he was getting ready for Eeyore that, when he suddenly saw Piglet sitting  in  his  best arm-chair,  he  could  only  stand  there  rubbing his head and wondering whose house he was in.
        "Hallo, Piglet," he said. "I thought you were out."
        "No," said Piglet, "it's you who were out, Pooh."
        "So it was," said Pooh. "I knew one of us was."
        He looked up at his clock, which had  stopped  at  five minutes to eleven some weeks ago.
        "Nearly  eleven  o'clock,"  said  Pooh happily. "You're just in time for a little smackerel of something," and  he  put his head into the cupboard. "And then we'll go out, Piglet, and sing my song to Eeyore."
        "Which song, Pooh?"
        "The  one  we're  going  to  sing to Eeyore," explained Pooh.
        The clock was still saying five minutes to eleven  when Pooh  and  Piglet  set out on their way half an hour later. The wind had dropped, and the  snow,  tired  of  rushing  round  in circles  trying  to  catch itself up, now fluttered gently down until it found a place on which  to  rest,  and  sometimes  the place  was Pooh's nose and sometimes it wasn't, and in a little while Piglet was wearing a white muffler  round  his  neck  and feeling  more  snowy  behind  the  ears  than  he had ever felt before.

"Pooh," he said at last, and a little timidly,  because he  didn't  want  Pooh  to  think he was Giving In, "I was just wondering. How would it be if we went home  now  and  practised your  song,  and  then  sang it to Eeyore to-morrow--or--or the next day, when we happen to see him?"
        "That's a very good idea, Piglet,"  said  Pooh.  "We'll practise  it now as we go along. But it's no good going home to practise it, because it's a special Outdoor Song which  Has To Be Sung In The Snow."
        "Are you sure?" asked Piglet anxiously.
        "Well,  you'll  see,  Piglet,  when you listen. Because this is how it begins. The more it snows, tiddely pom----"
        "Tiddely what?" said Piglet.
        "Pom," said Pooh. "I put that in to make it more hummy. The more it goes, tiddely pom, the more----"
        "Didn't you say snows?"
        "Yes, but that was before."
        "Before the tiddely pom?"
        "It was a different tiddely pom,"  said  Pooh,  feeling rather  muddled  now.  "I'll  sing  it to you properly and then you'll see."
        So he sang it again.

                      The more it
                SNOWS-tiddely-pom,
                The more it
                GOES-tiddely-pom
                The more it
                GOES-tiddely-pom
                On
                Snowing

                      And nobody
                KNOWS-tiddely-pom,
                How cold my
                TOES-tiddely-pom
                How cold my
                TOES-tiddely-pom
                Are
                Growing.

        He sang it like that, which is much  the  best  way  of singing  it,  and when he had finished, he waited for Piglet to say that, of all the Outdoor Hums for Snowy Weather he had ever heard, this was the best. And, after thinking  the  matter  out carefully, Piglet said:
        "Pooh," he said solemnly, "it isn't the toes so much as the ears."

By  this  time  they  were getting near Eeyore's Gloomy Place, which was where he lived, and as it was still very snowy behind Piglet's ears, and he was  getting  tired  of  it,  they turned  into a little pine wood, and sat down on the gate which led into it. They were out of the snow now,  but  it  was  very cold,  and  to keep themselves warm they sang Pooh's song right through six times, Piglet doing the tiddely-poms and Pooh doing the rest of it, and both of them thumping on  the  top  of  the gate with pieces of stick at the proper places. And in a little while they felt much warmer, and were able to talk again.
        "I've  been  thinking,"  said Pooh, "and what I've been thinking is this. I've been thinking about Eeyore."
        "What about Eeyore?"
        "Well, poor Eeyore has nowhere to live."
        "Nor he has," said Piglet.
        "You have a house, Piglet, and I have a house, and they are very good houses. And Christopher Robin has  a  house,  and Owl and Kanga and Rabbit have houses, and even Rabbit's friends and  relations  have  houses or somethings, but poor Eeyore has nothing. So what I've been  thinking  is:  Let's  build  him  a
house."
        "That,"  said  Piglet, "is a Grand Idea. Where shall we build it?"
        "We will build it here," said Pooh, "just by this wood, out of the wind, because this is where I thought of it. And  we will  call  this Pooh Corner. And we will build an Eeyore House with sticks at Pooh Corner for Eeyore."
        "There was a heap of sticks on the other  side  of  the wood," said Piglet. "I saw them. Lots and lots. All piled up."
        "Thank  you,  Piglet,"  said  Pooh. "What you have just said will be a Great Help to us, and because of it I could call this place Poohanpiglet Corner  if  Pooh  Corner  didn't  sound better,  which  it  does, being smaller and more like a corner. Come along."
        So they got down off the gate and  went  round  to  the other side of the wood to fetch the sticks.
        Christopher  Robin  had spent the morning indoors going to Africa and back, and he had just got off the  boat  and  was wondering  what  it  was  like  outside,  when  who should come knocking at the door but Eeyore.
        "Hallo, Eeyore," said Christopher Robin, as  he  opened the door and came out. "How are you?"
        "It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily.
        "So it is."
        "And freezing."
        "Is it?"
        "Yes,"  said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."
        "What's the matter, Eeyore?"
        "Nothing,  Christopher  Robin.  Nothing  important.   I suppose you haven't seen a house or what-not anywhere about?"
        "What sort of a house?"
        "Just a house."
        "Who lives there?"
        "I do. At least I thought I did. But I suppose I don't. After all, we can't all have houses."
        "But, Eeyore, I didn't know--I always thought----"

"I  don't  know  how it is, Christopher Robin, but what with all this snow and one thing and another,  not  to  mention icicles  and such-like, it isn't so Hot in my field about three o'clock in the morning as some people think  it  is.  It  isn't Close,  if you know what I mean--not so as to be uncomfortable. It isn't Stuffy. In fact, Christopher Robin," he went on  in  a loud whisper, "quite-between-ourselves-and- don't-tell-anybody,
it's Cold."
        "Oh, Eeyore!"
        "And  I said to myself: The others will be sorry if I'm getting myself all cold. They haven't got Brains, any of  them, only  grey  fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake, and they don't Think, but if it goes on  snowing  for  another  six weeks  or so, one of them will begin to say to himself: 'Eeyore can't be so very much  too  Hot  about  three  o'clock  in  the morning.' And then it will Get About. And they'll be Sorry."
        "Oh,  Eeyore!"  said  Christopher  Robin,  feeling very sorry already.
        "I don't mean you, Christopher Robin. You're different. So what it all comes to is that I built myself a house down  by my little wood."
        "Did you really? How exciting!"
        "The  really  exciting  part,"  said Eeyore in his most melancholy voice, "is that when I left it this morning  it  was there,  and  when  I  came  back  it  wasn't.  Not at all, very natural, and it was only  Eeyore's  house.  But  still  I  just
wondered."
        Christopher Robin didn't stop to wonder. He was already back in his   house,   putting   on  his  waterproof  hat,  his waterproof boots and his waterproof macintosh  as  fast  as  he could.
        "We'll  go  and  look for it at once," he called out to Eeyore.
        "Sometimes,"  said  Eeyore,  "when  people  have  quite finished  taking  a  person's  house, there are one or two bits which they don't want and are rather glad  for  the  person  to take  back,  if  you  know what I mean. So I thought if we just went "
        "Come  on,"  said  Christopher  Robin,  and  off   they hurried,  and  in  a very little time they got to the corner of the field by the side of the pine-wood,  where  Eeyore's  house wasn't any longer.

"There!"  said  Eeyore.  "Not  a  stick  of it left! Of course, I've still got all this snow to do what  I  like  with. One mustn't complain."
        But  Christopher  Robin  wasn't listening to Eeyore, he was listening to something else.
        "Can't you hear it?" he asked.
        "What is it? Somebody laughing?"
        "Listen."
        They both listened . . . and they heard  a  deep  gruff voice  saying  in  a  singing voice that the more it snowed the more it went on snowing, and a small high voice tiddely-pomming in between.
        "It's  Pooh,"  said  Christopher  Robin   excitedly.... "Possibly," said Eeyore.
        "And Piglet!" said Christopher Robin excitedly.
        "Probably,"  said  Eeyore.  "What  we want is a Trained Bloodhound."
        The words of the song changed suddenly.
        "We've finished our HOUSE!" sang the gruff voice.
        "Tiddely pom!" sang the squeaky one.
        "It's a beautiful HOUSE . . ."
        "Tiddely pom . . ."
        "I wish it were MINE . . ,"
        "Tiddely pom . . ."
        "Pooh!" shouted Christopher Robin. . . .
        The singers on the gate stopped suddenly.
        "It's Christopher Robin!" said Pooh eagerly.
        "He's round by the place where we got all those  sticks from," said Piglet.
        "Come on," said Pooh.
        They  climbed  down  their  gate  and hurried round the corner of the wood, Pooh making welcoming noises all the way.
        "Why, here is Eeyore," said Pooh, when he had  finished hugging  Christopher  Robin,  and  he nudged Piglet, and Piglet nudged him, and  they  thought  to  themselves  what  a  lovely surprise they had got ready.
        "Hallo, Eeyore."
        "Same  to you, Pooh Bear, and twice on Thursdays," said Eeyore gloomily.
        Before Pooh could  say:  "Why  Thursdays?"  Christopher Robin  began  to  explain the sad story of Eeyore's Lost House. And Pooh and Piglet listened, and  their  eyes  seemed  to  get bigger and bigger.

        "Where did you say it was?" asked Pooh.
        "Just here," said Eeyore.
        "Made of sticks?"
        "Yes."
        "Oh!" said Piglet.
        "What?" said Eeyore.
        "I just said 'Oh!'" said Piglet nervously. And so as to seem quite  at  ease  he  hummed Tiddely-pom once or twice in a what-shall-we-do-now kind of way.
        "You're sure it was  a  house?"  said  Pooh.  "I  mean, you're sure the house was just here?"
        "Of  course  I  am,"  said  Eeyore.  And he murmured to himself, "No brain at all, some of them."
        "Why,  what's  the  matter,  Pooh?"  asked  Christopher Robin.
        "Well,"  said Pooh . . . "The fact is," said Pooh . . . "Well, the fact is," said Pooh . . . "You see," said Pooh . . . "It's like this," said Pooh, and something seemed to  tell  him that  he  wasn't  explaining  very  well,  and he nudged Piglet again.
        "It's  like  this,"  said  Piglet   quickly....   "Only warmer," he added after deep thought.
        "What's warmer?"
        "The other side of the wood, where Eeyore's house is."
        "My house?" said Eeyore. "My house was here."
        "No," said Piglet firmly. "The other side of the wood."
        "Because of being warmer," said Pooh.
        "But I ought to know?"
        "Come  and  look,"  said  Piglet simply, and he led the way.
        "There wouldn't be two  houses,"  said  Pooh.  "Not  so close together."
        They  came  round  the  corner,  and there was Eeyore's house, looking as comfy as anything.
        "There you are," said Piglet.
        "Inside as well as outside," said Pooh proudly.
        Eeyore went inside . . . and came out again.
        "It's a remarkable thing," he said. "It  is  my  house, and  I built it where I said I did, so the wind must have blown it here. And the wind blew it right over the wood, and blew  it down  here,  and here it is as good as ever. In fact, better in places."
        "Much better," said Pooh and Piglet together.
        "It just shows what can be  done  by  taking  a  little trouble,"  said Eeyore. "Do you see, Pooh ? Do you see, Piglet? Brains first and then Hard Work. Look at it! That's the way  to build a house," said Eeyore proudly.
        So they left him in it; and Christopher Robin went back to lunch  with his friends Pooh and Piglet, and on the way they told him of the Awful Mistake they had made. And  when  he  had finished  laughing,  they  all  sang the Outdoor Song for Snowy Weather the rest of the way home, Piglet,  who  was  still  not quite sure of his voice, putting in the tiddely-poms again.
        "And  I  know  it  seems easy," said Piglet to himself, "but it isn't every one who could do it."

     WINNIE-THE-POOH  woke  up  suddenly  in  the middle of the night and listened. Then he got out of bed, and lit his candle, and stumped across the room to see if anybody was trying to get into his honey-cupboard, and they weren't, so he  stumped  back again, blew out his candle, and got into bed. Then he heard the noise again.
        "Is that you, Piglet?" he said. But it wasn't.
        "Come in, Christopher Robin," he said.
        But Christopher Robin didn't.
        "Tell  me  about  it  to-morrow,  Eeyore,"  said   Pooh sleepily.
        But the noise went on.
        "Worraworraworraworraworra,"  said Whatever-it-was, and Pooh found that he wasn't asleep after all.
        "What can it be?" he thought. "There are lots of noises in the Forest, but this is a different one. It isn't  a  growl, and  it  isn't  a  purr,  and it isn't a bark, and it isn't the noise-you-make-before- beginning-a-piece-of-poetry, but it's  a noise  of  some kind, made by a strange animal. And he's making it outside my door. So I shall get up and ask  him  not  to  do it."
        He got out of bed and opened his front door.
        "Hallo!" said Pooh, in case there was anything outside.
        "Hallo!" said Whatever-it-was.
        "Oh!" said Pooh. "Hallo!"
        "Hallo!"
        "Oh, there you are!" said Pooh. "Hallo!"
        "Hallo!"  said  the  Strange Animal, wondering how long this was going on.
        Pooh was just going to say "Hallo!" for the fourth time when he thought that he wouldn't, so  he  said,  "Who  is  it?" instead.
        "Me," said a voice.
        "Oh!" said Pooh. "Well, come here."
        So  Whatever-it-was  came here, and in the light of the candle he and Pooh looked at each other.

"I'm Pooh," said Pooh.
        "I'm Tigger," said Tigger.
        "Oh!" said Pooh, for he had never seen an  animal  like this before. "Does Christopher Robin know about you?"
        "Of course he does," said Tigger.
        "Well," said Pooh, "it's the middle of the night, which is a good  time for going to sleep. And to-morrow morning we'll have some honey for breakfast. Do Tiggers like honey?"
        "They like everything," said Tigger cheerfully.
        "Then if they like going to sleep on the floor, I'll go back to bed," said Pooh, "and we'll do things in  the  morning. Good night." And he got back into bed and went fast asleep.
        When  he  awoke  in the morning, the first thing he saw was Tigger, sitting in  front  of  the  glass  and  looking  at himself.
        "Hallo!" said Pooh.
        "Hallo!"  said  Tigger.  "I've found somebody just like me. I thought I was the only one of them."
        Pooh got out of  bed,  and  began  to  explain  what  a looking-glass   was,   but  just  as  he  was  getting  to  the interesting part, Tigger said:
        "Excuse me a moment, but there's something climbing  up your  table,"  and  with  one loud Worraworraworraworraworra he jumped at the  end of the tablecloth, pulled it  to  the  ground,  wrapped himself  up  in  it three times, rolled to the other end of the room, and, after a terrible struggle, got  his  head  into  the daylight again, and said cheerfully. "Have I won?"
        "That's  my  tablecloth,"  said  Pooh,  as  he began to unwind Tigger.
        "I wondered what it was," said Tigger.
        "It goes on the table and you put things on it."
        "Then why did it try to bite me when I wasn't looking?"
        "I don't think it did," said Pooh.
        "It tried," said Tigger, "but I was too quick for it."
        Pooh put the cloth back on the  table,  and  he  put  a large  honey-pot  on the cloth, and they sat down to breakfast. And as soon as they sat down, Tigger took a large  mouthful  of honey  .  .  . and he looked up at the ceiling with his head on one side, and  made  exploring  noises  with  his  tongue,  and considering  noises, and what have-we-got-here noises . . . and then he said in a very decided voice:
        "Tiggers don't like honey."
        "Oh!" said Pooh, and tried to make  it  sound  Sad  and Regretful. "I thought they liked everything."
        "Everything except honey," said Tigger.
        Pooh  felt rather pleased about this, and said that, as soon as he had finished his own breakfast, he would take Tigger round to Piglet's house, and Tigger could try some of  Piglet's haycorns.

"Thank  you,  Pooh," said Tigger, " because haycorns is really what Tiggers like best."
        So after breakfast they went round to see  Piglet,  and Pooh explained as they went that Piglet was a Very Small Animal who didn't like bouncing, and asked Tigger not to be too Bouncy just at first. And Tigger, who had been hiding behind trees and jumping  out on Pooh's shadow when it wasn't looking, said that Tiggers were only bouncy before breakfast, and that as soon  as they  had  had a few haycorns they became Quiet and Refined. So by-and-by they knocked at the door of Piglet's house.
        "Hallo, Pooh," said Piglet.
        "Hallo, Piglet. This is Tigger."
        "Oh, is it?" said Piglet, and he  edged  round  to  the other  side  of the table. "I thought Tiggers were smaller than that."
        "Not the big ones," said Tigger.
        "They like haycorns," said Pooh, "so that's what  we've come for, because poor Tigger hasn't had any breakfast yet."
        Piglet  pushed the bowl of haycorns towards Tigger, and said, "Help yourself," and then he got close  up  to  Pooh  and felt  much braver, and said, "So you're Tigger? Well, well!" in a careless sort of voice. But Tigger said nothing  because  his mouth was full of haycorns....
        After a long munching noise he said:
        "Ee-ers o i a-ors."
        And  when  Pooh  and Piglet said "What?" he said "Skoosee," and went outside for a moment.
        When he came back he said firmly:
        "Tiggers don't like haycorns."
        "But you said they liked everything except honey," said Pooh.
        "Everything  except  honey  and  haycorns,"   explained Tigger.
        When he heard this, Pooh said, "Oh, I see!" and Piglet, who was rather  glad  that  Tiggers didn't like haycorns, said, "What about thistles?"
        "Thistles," said Tigger, "is what Tiggers like best."
        "Then lets go along and see Eeyore," said Piglet
        So the three of them went; and after  they  had  walked and  walked  and  walked,  they  came to the part of the Forest where Eeyore was.
        "Hallo, Eeyore!" said Pooh. "This is Tigger."
        "What is?" said Eeyore.
        "This," explained Pooh and Piglet together, and  Tigger smiled his happiest smile and said nothing.
        Eeyore walked all round Tigger one way, and then turned and walked all round him the other way.
        "What did you say it was?" he asked.
        "Tigger."
        "Ah!" said Eeyore.
        "He's just come," explained Piglet.
        "Ah!" said Eeyore again.
        He thought for a long time and then said:
        "When is he going?"
        Pooh explained to Eeyore that Tigger was a great friend of Christopher Robin's, who had come to stay in the Forest, and Piglet explained  to  Tigger  that  he mustn't mind what Eeyore said because he was always  gloomy;  and  Eeyore  explained  to Piglet  that,  on  the  contrary,  he  was feeling particularly cheerful this morning; and Tigger explained to anybody who  was listening  that  he  hadn't had any breakfast yet. I knew there was something," said Pooh. "Tiggers  always  eat  thistles,  so that was why we came to see you, Eeyore."

"Don't mention it, Pooh."
        "Oh,  Eeyore,  I  didn't mean that I didn't want to see you--"
        "Quite--quite. But your new stripy friend--  naturally, he wants his breakfast. What did you say his name was?"
        "Tigger."
        "Then come this way, Tigger."
        Eeyore led the way to the most thistly-looking patch of thistles that ever was, and waved a hoof at it.
        "A  little  patch  I  was  keeping for my birthday," he said; " but, after all, what are  birthdays?  Here  to-day  and gone tomorrow. Help yourself, Tigger."
        Tigger  thanked  him  and  looked a little anxiously at Pooh.
        "Are these really thistles?" he whispered.
        "Yes," said Pooh.
        "What Tiggers like best?"
        "That's right," said Pooh.
        "I see," said Tigger.
        So he took a  large  mouthful,  and  he  gave  a  large crunch.
        "Ow!" said Tigger.
        He sat down and put his paw in his mouth.
        "What's the matter?" asked Pooh.
        "Hot!" mumbled Tigger.
        "Your  friend," said Eeyore, "appears to have bitten on a bee."
        Pooh's friend stopped  shaking  his  head  to  get  the prickles out, and explained that Tiggers didn't like thistles.
        "Then why bend a perfectly good one?" asked Eeyore.
        "But  you  said,"  began Pooh, "--you said that Tiggers liked everything except honey and haycorns."
        "And thistles," said Tigger, who was now running  round in circles with his tongue hanging out.
        Pooh looked at him sadly.
        "What are we going to do?" he asked Piglet.
        Piglet  knew  the  answer  to that, and he said at once that they must go and see Christopher Robin
        "You'll find him with  Kanga,"  said  Eeyore.  He  came close to Pooh, and said in a loud whisper:
        "Could   you  ask  your  friend  to  do  his  exercises somewhere else? I shall be having  lunch  directly,  and  don't want  it bounced on just before I begin. A trifling matter, and fussy of me, but we all have our little ways."
        Pooh nodded solemnly and called to Tigger.
        "Come along and we'll go and see Kanga. She's  sure  to have lots of breakfast for you."
        Tigger finished his last circle and came up to Pooh and Piglet.
        "Hot!"  he  explained  with a large and friendly smile. "Come on!" and he rushed off.
        Pooh and Piglet walked slowly after him.  And  as  they walked  Piglet  said  nothing,  because  he  couldn't  think of anything, and Pooh said nothing, because he was thinking  of  a poem. And when he had thought of it he began:

                  What shall we do about poor little Tigger?
            If he never eats nothing he'll never get bigger.
            He doesn't like honey and haycorns and thistles
            Because of the taste and because of the bristles.
            And all the good things which an animal likes
            Have the wrong sort of swallow or too many spikes.

        "He's quite big enough anyhow," said Piglet.
        "He isn't really very big."
        "Well he seems so."