Alan Alexander Miln. The house at Pooh Corner -
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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