He looked up at his clock, which had stopped at five minutes to eleven some weeks ago.
"Nearly eleven o'clock," said Pooh happily. "You're just in time for a little smackerel of something," and he put his head into the cupboard. "And then we'll go out, Piglet, and sing my song to Eeyore."
"Which song, Pooh?"
"The one we're going to sing to Eeyore," explained Pooh.
The clock was still saying five minutes to eleven when Pooh and Piglet set out on their way half an hour later. The wind had dropped, and the snow, tired of rushing round in circles trying to catch itself up, now fluttered gently down until it found a place on which to rest, and sometimes the place was Pooh's nose and sometimes it wasn't, and in a little while Piglet was wearing a white muffler round his neck and feeling more snowy behind the ears than he had ever felt before.
"Pooh," he said at last, and a little timidly, because he didn't want Pooh to think he was Giving In, "I was just wondering. How would it he if we went home now and practised your song, and then sang it to Eeyore to-morrow or - or the next day, when we happen to see him?"
 
 
 
 

"That's a very good idea, Piglet," said Pooh. "We'll practise it now as we go a long. But it's no good going home to practise it, because it's a special Outdoor Song which Has To Be Sung In The Snow.
"Are you sure?" asked Piglet anxiously. "Well, you'll see, Piglet, when you listen. Because this is how it begins. The more it snows, tiddely pom
"Tiddely what?" said Piglet.
"Pom," said Pooh. "I put that in to make it more hummy. The more it goes, tiddely pom, the more
"Didn't you say snows?"
"Yes, but that was before."
"Before the tiddely pom?"