With these proud words he gave Christopher Robin the missage.
"But it's from Piglet!" cried Christopher Robin when he had read it.
"Isn't there anything about Pooh in it?" asked Bear, looking over his shoulder.
Christopher Robin read the message aloud.
"Oh, are those 'P's' piglets? I thought they were poohs."
"We must rescue him at once! I thought he was with you, Pooh. Owl, could you rescue him on your back?"
"I don't think so," said Owl, after grave thought. "It is doubtful if the necessary dorsal muscles "
"Then would you fly to him at once and say that Rescue is Coming? And Pooh and I will think of a Rescue and come as quick as ever we can. Oh, don't talk, Owl, go on quick!" And, still thinking of something to say, Owl flew off.
"Now then, Pooh," said Christopher Robin, "where's your boat?"
"I ought to say," explained Pooh as they walked down to the shore of the island, "that it isn't just an ordinary sort of boat. Sometimes it's a Boat, and sometimes it's more of an Accident. It all depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On whether I'm on top of it or underneath it."
"Oh! Well, where is it?"
"There!" said Pooh, pointing proudly to The Floating Bear.
It wasn't what Christopher Robin expected, and the more he looked at it, the more he thought what a Brave and Clever Bear Pooh was, and the more Christopher Robin thought this, the more Pooh looked modestly down his nose and tried to pretend he wasn't.
"But it's too small for two of us," said Christopher Robin sadly.
"Three of us with Piglet."
"That makes it smaller still Oh, Pooh Bear, what shall we do?"
And then this Bear, Pooh Bear, Winnie-the-Pooh, F.O.P. (Friend of Piglet's), R.C. (Rabbit's Companion), P.D. (Pole Discoverer), E.C. and T.F. (Eeyore's Comforter and Tail-finder) – in fact, Pooh himself – said something so clever that Christopher Robin could only look at him with mouth open and eyes staring, wondering if this was really the Bear of Very Little Brain whom he had know and loved so long.
"We might go in your umbrella," said Pooh.
"?"
"We might go in your umbrella," said Pooh?
"??"
"We might go in your umbrella," said Pooh.
"!!!!!!"
For suddenly Christopher Robin saw that they might. He opened his umbrella and put it point downwards in the water. It floated but wobbled.
Pooh got in. He was just beginning to say that it was all right now, when he found that it wasn't, so after a short drink, which he didn't really want, he waded back to Christopher Robin. Then they both got in together, and it wobbled no longer.
"I shall call this boat The Brain of Pooh," said Christopher Robin, and The Brain of Pooh set sail forthwith in a south-westerly direction, revolving gracefully.
You can imagine Piglet's joy when at last the ship came in sight of him. In after-years he liked to think that he had been in Very Great Danger during the Terrible Flood, but the only danger he had really been in was the last half-hour of his imprisonment, when Owl, who had just flown up, sat on a branch of his tree to comfort him, and told him a very long story about an aunt who had once laid a seagull's egg by mistake, and the story went on and on, rather like this sentence, until Piglet who was listening out of his window without much hope, went to sleep quietly and naturally, slipping slowly out of the window towards the water until he was only hanging on by his toes, at which moment, luckily, a sudden loud squawk from Owl, which was really part of the story, being what his aunt said, woke the Piglet up and just gave him time to jerk himself back into safety and say, "How interesting, and did she?" when – well, you can imagine his joy when at last he saw the good ship, Brain of Pooh (Captain, C. Robin; Ist Mate, P. Bear) coming over the sea to rescue him......
And as that is really the end of the story, and I am very tired after that last sentence, I think I shall stop there.
Chapter 10
...in which Christopher Robin gives a pooh party, and we say good-bye
ONE day when the sun had come back over the Forest, bringing with it the scent of may, and all the streams of the Forest were tinkling happily to find themselves their own pretty shape again, and the little pools lay dreaming of the life they had seen and the big things they had done, and in the warmth and quiet of the Forest the cuckoo was trying over his voice carefully and listening to see if he liked it, and wood-pigeons were complaining gently to themselves in their lazy comfortable way that it was the other fellow's fault, but it didn't matter very much; on such a day as this Christopher Robin whistled in a special way he had, and Owl came flying out of the Hundred Acre Wood to see what was wanted.
"Owl," said Christopher Robin, "I am going to give a party."
"You are, are you?" said Owl.
"And it's to be a special sort of party, because it's because of what Pooh did when he did what he did to save Piglet from the flood."
"Oh, that's what it's for, is it?" said Owl.
"Yes, so will you tell Pooh as quickly as you can, and all the others, because it will be to-morrow?"
"Oh, it will, will it?" said Owl, still being as helpful as possible.
"So will you go and tell them, Owl?"
Owl tried to think of something very wise to say, but couldn't, so he flew off to tell the others. And the first person he told was Pooh.
"Pooh," he said, "Christopher Robin is giving a party."
"Oh!" said Pooh And then seeing that Owl expected him to say something else, he said, "Will there be those little cake things with pink sugar icing?"
Owl felt that it was rather beneath him to talk about little cake things with pink sugar icing, so he told Pooh exactly what Christopher Robin had said, and flew off to Eeyore.
"Party for Me?" thought Pooh to himself. "How grand!" And he began to wonder if all the other animals would know that it was a special Pooh Party, and if Christopher Robin had told them about The Floating Bear and the Brain of Pooh, and all the wonderful ships he had invented and sailed on, and he began to think how awful it would be if everybody had forgotten about it, and nobody quite knew what the party was for; and the more he thought like this, the more the party got muddled in his mind, like a dream when nothing goes right.
And the dream began to sing itself over in his head until it became a sort of song. It was an