One morning along about Saturday in the Hundred Acre Wood, Pooh was beginning to feel a little something-ish when he suddenly noticed that the weather had turned blustery.
He thought this might be a bit unusual (if a bear could be said to think properly when his tummy was rumbling), because it seemed to him that such a thing as blusteriness belonged outside rather than in.
"Oh dear, oh dear," said Pooh, "whatever shall I do?"
The larder (that was to say, the cupboard in which Pooh kept his honey pots) was full of broken crockery and dust. Pooh's favorite chair spun in circles round the floor, and the hearth rug flew in dizzying swoops across the room like a bird that had fallen down through the chimney.
"Christopher Robin will know what to do," thought Pooh. He went to gather his muffler and see whether one of the jars might still be unbroken, but then stopped. There was a new noise, and it sounded as if it was coming from the other side of his front door.
Pooh opened the door cautiously.
"Hallo, Pooh!" said Piglet. "What a lot of mess you've got on the floor. Are you cleaning house?"
Now as far as Pooh remembered, cleaning house did not involve breaking half the things in it. Perhaps he'd never done it properly? In any case, it was best not to let Piglet know.
"A bit," said Pooh, thinking that was a rather clever sort of answer.
"I wondered if you wanted to come over for tea?" Piglet asked hopefully.
Piglet always had the most lovely things for tea, including cakes and comfits and, on rare occasions, honey.
"Delighted!" said Pooh. He stepped outside hastily, thinking that perhaps things might settle down a bit whilst he was gone.
"Do you know, Owl told me the most unusual story yesterday," Piglet went on. "It was about a dreadfully ill-tempered badger that once lived in your very tree."
At those words, a teacup came flying out of the window and struck poor Piglet on the head.
Bother, thought Pooh, who could not imagine why that had happened.
"What was that?" asked Piglet, rubbing his left ear.
"A haycorn," Pooh suggested. He rushed Piglet away from the house. "Do you suppose it might rain today?" he added.
"I hope not," said Piglet. "I've set the tea things up in the grassy meadow!"
The words were like music for Pooh, whose tummy was still rumbly with wanting something to eat. "Do let's hurry, then."
He and Piglet trotted happily down the lane, leaving the oddest and faintest sort of crashing sounds far behind them.
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