‘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 ‘Skoos ee,’ 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 let’s 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 to-morrow. 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.’
Pooh was thoughtful when he heard this, and then he murmured to himself:
But whatever his weight in pounds, shillings, and ounces,
He always seems bigger because of his bounces.
‘And that’s the whole poem,’ he said. ‘Do you like it,
Piglet?’
‘All except the shillings,’ said Piglet. ‘I don’t think they ought to be there.’
‘They wanted to come in after the pounds,’ explained Pooh, ‘so I let them. It is the best way to write poetry, letting things come.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know,’ said Piglet.
Tigger had been bouncing in front of them all this time, turning round every now and then to ask, ‘Is this the way?’ – and now at last they came in sight of Kanga’s house, and there was Christopher Robin. Tigger rushed