"Mline, AA - Winnie the Pooh, Book 1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Milne A A)

pencil, and wondered how to spell "birthday."
"Can you read, Pooh?" he asked a little anxiously. "There's a notice about
knocking and ringing outside my door, which Christopher Robin wrote. Could you
read it?"
"Christopher Robin told me what it said, and then I could."
"Well, I'll tell you what this says, and then you'll be able to."
So Owl wrote . . . and this is what he wrote:

HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA
BTHUTHDY.

Pooh looked on admiringly.

"I'm just saying 'A Happy Birthday'," said Owl carelessly.
"It's a nice long one," said Pooh, very much impressed by it.
"Well, actually, of course, I'm saying 'A Very Happy Birthday with love from
Pooh.' Naturally it takes a good deal of pencil to say a long thing like that."
"Oh, I see," said Pooh.
While all this was happening, Piglet had gone back to his own house to get
Eeyore's balloon. He held it very tightly against himself, so that it shouldn't
blow away, and he ran as fast as he could so as to get to Eeyore before Pooh
did; for he thought that he would like to be the first one to give a present,
just as if he had thought of it without being told by anybody. And running
along, and thinking how pleased Eeyore would be, he didn't look where he was
going . . . and suddenly he put his foot in a rabbit hole, and fell down flat on
his face.
BANG!!!???***!!!

Piglet lay there, wondering what had happened. At first he thought that the
whole world had blown up; and then he thought that perhaps only the Forest part
of it had; and then he thought that perhaps only he had, and he was now alone in
the moon or somewhere, and would never see Christopher Robin or Pooh or Eeyore
again. And then he thought, "Well, even if I'm in the moon, I needn't be face
downwards all the time," so he got cautiously up and looked about him.
CE="Arial"> He was still in the Forest!
"Well, that's funny," he thought. "I wonder what that bang was. I couldn't have
made such a noise just falling down. And where's my balloon? And what's that
small piece of damp rag doing?"
It was the balloon!
"Oh, dear!" said Piglet. "Oh, dear, oh, dearie, dearie, dear! Well, it's too
late now. I can't go back, and I haven't another balloon, and perhaps Eeyore
doesn't like balloons so very much."
So he trotted on, rather sadly now, and down he came to the side of the stream
where Eeyore was, and called out to him.
"Good morning, Eeyore," shouted Piglet.
"Good morning, Little Piglet," said Eeyore. "If it is a good morning," he said.
"Which I doubt," said he. "Not that it matters," he said.
"Many happy returns of the day," said Piglet, having now got closer.
Eeyore stopped looking at himself in the stream, and turned to stare at Piglet.
"Just say that again," he said.