Dutton Children’s Books
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street
New York, New York 10014
First published in Great Britain 2016 by Egmont UK Limited
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
www.egmont.co.uk
Stories by Paul Bright, Brian Sibley, Jeanne Willis, and Kate Saunders
copyright © 2016 Trustees of the Pooh Properties
Illustrations by Mark Burgess copyright © 2016 Trustees of the Pooh Properties
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eBook ISBN: 9780399187483
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EXPOSITION
“Ninety?” said Winnie-the-Pooh. “Is that more than seven?”
“Yes, Pooh,” said Kanga patiently. “You’re ninety years old, which calls for a celebration.”
“A celebration?” said Eeyore gloomily. “A song and dance? I suppose I am ninety, too. But no whooping and whatnot for Eeyore. That explains a great deal—”
“Ninety-two?” asked Piglet, a little confused. “But if Pooh is only ninety . . .”
At which point Tigger bounced up and Piglet sat down in a hurry.
You see, someone had heard, and another person had mentioned, and then somebody had decided that it was time to share some more of Winnie-the-Pooh’s adventures. As being ninety years old was a Very Great Thing.
So all the animals in the Forest have come together to hear the stories for themselves. Pooh has, in all the excitement, forgotten what many of them are about and hopes that his friends were in them and that he comes off All Right.
Well, Pooh needn’t have worried. In these adventures he encounters mythical creatures, mysterious new friends (and foes), and a peculiar type of sauce. . . . They’re the kind of adventures that just seem to happen in the Hundred Acre Wood.
So settle down, sit back, and enjoy four new stories about the Best Bear in All the World, Winnie-the-Pooh, and all his friends.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This official sequel is based on the original Winnie-the-Pooh stories by A. A. Milne and decorated in the style of E. H. Shepard.
The publisher would like to thank the Trustees of the Pooh Properties and The Shepard Trust for their contributions throughout, and Stephanie Thwaites at Curtis Brown for her advice and enthusiasm at all stages of the development.
CONTENTS
COPYRIGHT
TITLE PAGE
EXPOSITION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
AUTUMN
in which Pooh and Piglet prepare to meet a Dragon
PAUL BRIGHT
WINTER
in which Penguin arrives in the Forest
BRIAN SIBLEY
SPRING
in which Eeyore suspects Another Donkey is after his thistles
JEANNE WILLIS
SUMMER
in which Pooh dreams of the Sauce of the Nile
KATE SAUNDERS
AFTERWORD
ABOUT A. A. MILNE
ABOUT E. H. SHEPARD
AUTUMN
in which Pooh and Piglet prepare to meet a Dragon
BY
PAUL BRIGHT
CHRISTOPHER ROBIN WAS NOT TO BE DISTURBED. “I’m going to be St. George in the village play,” he explained to Pooh as they kicked through the autumn leaves. “I have to fight a fire-breathing dragon who has been eating damsels.” He showed Pooh his St. George wooden sword. “And I’ve got a helmet somewhere . . . but, you see, the thing is, I’ve got lots to say, so I have to learn my words. That’s what actors do, and they must not be disturbed.”
Pooh thought about this, then asked:
“This dragon. Does it live anywhere near the Hundred Acre Wood? Because, if it does, you might let it know that this is not the best place for finding dams . . . dams . . . what you said.” Then Pooh had another thought, even more alarming. “And can you tell it that there’s no spare honey around here, either. Not even five fresh pots, sitting in anyone’s cupboard.”
“Oh, Bear,” said Christopher Robin. “Dragons are mythical creatures. Or are they extinct? It’s one or the other, so there’s nothing to worry about. And they don’t eat honey. Now, I must go. Please tell everybody—Do Not Disturb!” Then Christopher Robin ran back to the house, making dragon-threatening thrusts and slashes at the undergrowth, while Pooh wondered whether he preferred his dragons mithickle or ex-stinkt and quite what the difference might be.
• • •
Pooh told Rabbit and Rabbit told Owl and Owl told Kanga and Kanga told Tigger and Tigger told Roo, who jumped up and down squeaking:
“Look at me! I’m a dragon!”
Then Tigger told everyone he bumped into, including Piglet and Eeyore, so that very soon all the Forest knew about St. George and the fire-breathing dragon, and that Christopher Robin was Not To Be Disturbed.
• • •
Eeyore did not normally venture far from his gloomy place, but now that summer was over it was gloomier than ever, and friends were not dropping by like they used to.
“Not that Like They Used To was ever what you’d call Often,” muttered Eeyore. Of course, Christopher Robin used to pass by every now and then. “Well, more Then, than Now,” thought Eeyore, because now Christopher Robin was Not To Be Disturbed. “And no one has Not Disturbed him more than me, these last few days.” Then Eeyore had an idea. “I shall go for a walk,” he announced to himself. “A stroll. A ramble. And maybe I shall meet somebody. Or maybe, when I return, somebody will have dropped by. Or maybe . . .” —he let out a sigh—“. . . not.”
But Eeyore had walked no more than a dozen plods, when he saw it. A Something. A Something half hidden under a bush. A Something that glinted in an Interesting sort of way.
“Whatever that is,” thought Eeyore, “I, Eeyore, have found it.” But try as he might, with hooves and head and teeth, he couldn’t persuade it to come free. “What is needed,” he decided at last, “is assistance. Assistance in the digging of it out and then assistance in the knowing of what it is.” He thought maybe Rabbit could help, “because Rabbit can burrow, and Rabbit has Brain.” But then Rabbit might take charge and maybe even claim the credit for finding the Something Interesting himself. “Perhaps Owl?” he thought. But Owl did confuse him with very long words. Eeyore ummed and then he aahed. He went this way and then he went that way. And at last he decided that the only thing to do was to stand and guard the Something Interesting until somebody came along. So he stood, and guarded, and waited as the wind blew and the leaves swirled and the sun sank ever lower in the sky.
The next morning, Pooh was also pondering where summer had gone, because it was rather too chilly for a Bear to sit outside and have a little something to start the day. But then again it wasn’t yet winter, when a Bear pulls up his eiderdown and has a little something warm and snug before climbing out of bed. It was a time when th
e weather didn’t quite know what to do with itself, and on this particular morning, neither did Pooh. He kicked at the leaves on the path, and as he kicked, he realised that he was heading towards Piglet’s house, which seemed the very best thing to do. A hum started forming in his brain; a hum that fitted in nicely with the rhythm of a bear walking and kicking.
Some days are good for a Piglet (kick),
To come and visit a Pooh (kick).
And there are days
When contrariways
Is the perfect thing to do (kick).
He wasn’t sure that “contrariways” was a proper word, but it fitted and it rhymed, and that was all that any useful word needed to do. Pooh was about to start on a second verse when he found that he had already reached Piglet’s house. Pooh was sure it was Piglet’s house, but it didn’t look quite like Piglet’s house, because there was a notice on the door, and there had not been a notice on Piglet’s door for as long as Pooh could remember (which was generally since a week last Saturday, more or less). But it must be Piglet’s house, because there, standing in the doorway, was . . .
“Hullo, Piglet,” said Pooh, cheerily.
Piglet jumped so hard he fell and landed flat on his bottom.
“Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Pooh,” he said, rubbing where it hurt. “It’s you. I thought you might be the dragon.”
Pooh stared at Piglet’s notice.
DEER DRAGUN
NO DAMSENS HEER
PIGLIT IS OWT (GON AWAY)
“It’s for the dragon,” said Piglet. “To tell him that I’m not at home.”
“But you are at home,” said Pooh. “And I’ve come to visit you.”
“Of course I’m at home when you come to visit,” said Piglet. “But I’m not at home if a dragon visits. Even if I am, if you see what I mean.” Pooh didn’t see at all, but Piglet continued: “It’s because I had a frightening dream. I think it was a dragon dream, though it’s difficult to know when you’ve never seen a dragon.”
“I’ve never seen a Heffalump,” said Pooh, “but I still dream about them. But Christopher Robin said dragons are mithickle or ex-stinkt, so . . . so there’s nothing to worry about.” Pooh didn’t quite know why there was nothing to worry about, but Christopher Robin had said it, so it must be true.
“There may be nothing for Christopher Robin to worry about,” said Piglet. “But what if the dragon visits while Christopher Robin is Not To Be Disturbed?”
Pooh scratched his head. He much preferred questions of the “What would you like?” or “How about some more?” variety, but he did his best.
“You could say: ‘Go away, you’re only mithickle,’” he suggested. “Or ‘Please move on now, you’re ex-stinkt.’”
“I’m not sure that I could,” said Piglet. “Oh, if only I were brave. I’m not sure that I’m quite ready to meet a dragon. Besides, we don’t know What this dragon looks like, or When it’s coming, or Where, or anything!”
“Christopher Robin must know,” said Pooh. “But if we can’t ask Christopher Robin about the dragon, there is only one other person wise enough to talk to!”
So off they walked in the direction of Owl’s house. But they had not gone far when Piglet suddenly stopped. He grasped Pooh’s paw and squeaked:
“We’re too late! Look! Under that pile of leaves! It’s the dragon!”
Pooh looked. The pile of leaves was rustling . . . and rising . . . and groaning. . . .
“GRRRRRR! . . . OOOOOOH! . . . AAAAAAH!”
“I can see its nose!” wailed Piglet. “It’s snarling! It’s snorting!” He turned to run away, but tripped and fell with a Bump, then lay on the ground covering his eyes with his ears.
The dragon’s terrible mouth appeared, grim and grey . . . and strangely familiar.
“Hullo, Pooh,” said the dragon.
“It’s Eeyore!” said Pooh.
Eeyore gave himself a good shake. “And Piglet too! About time. I was hoping for someone of Considerable Brain, but there it is. You can’t have everything.”
Eeyore brushed a leaf from between his ears and explained that he was guarding a Something Interesting and that he must have been there all night, and what with the wind and the leaves . . . “And now here you are.”
“What was that you said,” asked Pooh hopefully, “about a Something?”
“It’s here,” said Eeyore proudly, showing them the Something Interesting, still firmly stuck under the bush. “Where I found it. Rabbit could dig it out, of course,” continued Eeyore. “And Owl could maybe say just what it is. But they’re not here. And I could go and find them, but somebody has to guard it. In case . . .” He tailed off, not quite sure what the Something Interesting might do in his absence, but wanting to stay anyway, to be sure.
“Why don’t I go and fetch Rabbit,” said Pooh, quite forgetting for the moment about the dragon.
“And I’ll go and talk to Owl,” said Piglet, who had not forgotten at all.
“That would be most satisfactory,” said Eeyore, solemnly continuing with his guard duties.
Piglet hurried to Owl’s house as fast as his little legs would take him. He pulled gently at the bell-pull because it seemed the polite thing to do, then he knocked loudly at the knocker, because everybody knew that Owl’s bell-rope, though it looked very grand, was not in fact attached to a bell.
“Piglet!” exclaimed Owl. “What a pleasure to see you.” Piglet explained about Eeyore and the Something Interesting, and the need for someone who knew something about Somethings to come and look at it. Owl did his best to look wise, and told Piglet that nobody knew anything about Anything as much as he, Owl, knew something about Somethings. He was heading towards the front door when Piglet said:
“Then there’s the dragon . . .” He explained in a great rush about not knowing the What and the Where and the When of the fire-breathing dragon, or even whether it was mithickle or ex-stinkt. And how he and Pooh, Pooh and he, thought that someone as wise as Owl could maybe explain.
“Indeed!” said Owl, thinking quickly. “Now, let me see. Well . . . something is ex-stinkt if . . . if it was previously, so far as anyone can recall, stinkt, but is not, as far as anyone can substantiate, stinkt anymore.” He glanced at Piglet who looked suitably impressed, so Owl continued. “As for mithickle creatures, well . . . they are creatures that are sadly mithed—most people wish they were still around even though they have not been seen for as long as anyone can remember. Now is that clear?”
“Oh yes, yes. Thank you,” said Piglet, and Owl turned to leave when Piglet continued, “So, if a mithickle creature hasn’t been seen for as long as anyone can remember, which Pooh says is a week last Saturday, when might it come back again?”
Owl was rather taken aback by this.
“Umm,” he said. Then “Aah.” Then “Umm,” once again. And at last: “Well, more or less, plus or minus, give or take, and of course allowing for the usual errors and omissions, one wouldn’t expect to see a dragon again until at least a week next Tuesday.”
Owl hurried outside before Piglet could come up with any more difficult questions. Then he flew from branch to branch while Piglet scurried back along the Forest path. Owl started telling Piglet the hilarious tale of his Great Aunt Agatha’s embarrassing experience in Timbuktu, but Piglet didn’t seem to be listening. And just then:
“Aah! Here’s Eeyore,” said Owl. “And if I’m not mistaken, here come Pooh and Rabbit.”
Rabbit quickly got to work. There were sounds of digging and delving, then he reappeared proudly holding the Something Interesting. He rubbed off some lumps and streaks of mud and it glinted in a way that only Something Interesting can.
“Pooh!” whispered Piglet urgently, but Rabbit said: “Sshhh!” very firmly and started to examine the Something, turning it in his paws.
“Hmmm” he said. “Obviously some sort of cont
ainer. For putting things in.”
“Like honey?” suggested Pooh.
“Or haycorns,” said Piglet, who really thought the arrival of a dragon a week next Tuesday much more important, but didn’t want to be “Sshhh’d” at again.
“Quite,” said Rabbit briskly. “So what we have found is . . .”
“What I have found,” interrupted Eeyore, who had been expecting this. “Eeyore. Found. It.”
“Yes, yes,” said Rabbit, “what Eeyore has found . . .”
“Don’t mention it,” said Eeyore.
“. . . is, as I said, some sort of container. The question is, how old is it? Is it, for example, BC or AD?”
Pooh stared at the sky, thinking it was a bit late in the year for bee seeing.
“In my own opinion,” continued Rabbit, “I would suggest it is BC because it Badly needs Cleaning.”
“Quite so,” interrupted Owl, peering intently at the Something. “But then again it may well be AD since it is Antique and Dirty, or even ’Ardly Damaged. Personally,” he added, “I would say it has something of the Etruscan period about it.” Owl couldn’t remember where he had heard the word Etruscan, but it was one of those words you don’t often get the chance to use, and he wanted to make the most of this opportunity.
“Pooh!” whispered Piglet again, but now Owl looked at him in a most severe manner.
“It is quite possibly of such antiquity,” said Rabbit. He glanced at Owl in case the Etruscans were not of much antiquity at all, but had been roaming the Forest filling their containers with haycorns and honey just yesterday, but Owl did not argue. “In addition,” said Rabbit . . .
But Piglet could contain himself no longer.
“A dragon’s coming!” he squeaked, at the top of his voice. “A fire-breathing dragon—a week next Tuesday. What are we going to do?”
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