Kanga and Roo were spending a quiet afternoon in a sandy part of the Forest. Baby Roo was practising very small jumps in the sand, and falling down mouse-holes and climbing out of them, and Kanga was fidgeting about and saying "Just one more jump, dear, and then we must go home." And at that moment who should come stumping up the hill but Pooh.
"Good afternoon, Kanga."
"Good afternoon, Pooh."
"Look at me jumping," squeaked Roo, and fell into another mouse-hole.
"Hallo, Roo, my little fellow!"
"We were just going home," said Kanga. "Good afternoon, Rabbit. Good afternoon, Piglet."
Rabbit and Piglet, who had now come up from the other side of the hill, said "Good afternoon," and "Hallo, Roo," and Roo asked them to look at him jumping, so they stayed and looked.
And Kanga looked too. . . .
"Oh, Kanga," said Pooh, after Rabbit had winked at him twice, "I don't know if you are interested in Poetry at all?"
"Hardly at all," said Kanga.
"Oh!" said Pooh.
"Roo, dear, just one more jump and then we must go home."
There was a short silence while Roo fell down another mouse-hole.
"Go on," said Rabbit in a loud whisper behind his paw.
"Talking of Poetry," said Pooh, "I made up a little piece as I was coming along. It went like this. Er—now let me see—"
"Fancy!" said Kanga. "Now Roo, dear—"
"You'll like this piece of poetry," said Rabbit. "You'll love it," said Piglet.
"You must listen very carefully," said Rabbit. "So as not to miss any of it," said Piglet.
"Oh, yes," said Kanga, but she still looked at Baby Roo.
"How did it go, Pooh?" said Rabbit.
Pooh gave a little cough and began.