He gave a deep sigh, picked his bear up by the leg and walked off to the door, trailing Winnie-the-Pooh behind him. At the door he turned and said “Coming to see me have my bath?”
“I might,” I said.
“Was Pooh’s pencil case any better than mine?”
“It was just the same,” I said.
He nodded and went out . . . and in a moment I heard Winnie-the-Pooh—bump, bump, bump—going up the stairs behind him.
The End
