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           "Mybirthday?"

           "Yes."

           "Mehavingarealbirthday?"

           "Yes,Eeyore,andI’vebroughtyouapresent."

           Eeyoretookdownhisrighthooffromhisrightear,turnedround,andwithgreatdifficultyputuphislefthoof.

           "Imusthavethatintheotherear,"hesaid."Nowthen."

           "Apresent,"saidPigletveryloudly.

           "Meaningmeagain?"

           "Yes."

           "Mybirthdaystill?"

           "Ofcourse,Eeyore."

           "Megoingonhavingarealbirthday?"

           "Yes,Eeyore,andIbroughtyouaballoon."

           "Balloon?"saidEeyore."Youdidsayballoon?Oneofthosebigcolouredthingsyoublowup?Gaiety,song-and-dance,hereweareandthereweare?"

           "Yes,butI’mafraid—I’mverysorry,Eeyore—butwhenIwasrunningalongtobringityou,Ifelldown."

           "Dear,dear,howunlucky!Yourantoofast,Iexpect.Youdidn’thurtyourself,LittlePiglet?"

           "No,butI—I—oh,Eeyore,Ibursttheballoon!"

           Therewasaverylongsilence.

           "Myballoon?"saidEeyoreatlast.

           Pigletnodded.

           "Mybirthdayballoon?"

           "Yes,Eeyore,"saidPigletsniffingalittle."Hereitis.With—withmanyhappyreturnsoftheday."AndhegaveEeyorethesmallpieceofdamprag.

           "Isthisit?"saidEeyore,alittlesurprised.

           Pigletnodded.

           "Mypresent?"

           Pigletnoddedagain.

           "Theballoon?"

           "Yes."

           "Thankyou,Piglet,"saidEeyore."Youdon’tmindmyasking,"hewenton,"butwhatcolourwasthisballoonwhenit—whenitwasaballoon?"

           "Red."

           "Ijustwondered...Red,"hemurmuredtohimself."Myfavouritecolour...