The bees were still buzzing as suspiciously as ever. Some of them, indeed, left their nest and flew all round the cloud as it began the second verse of this song, and one bee sat down on the nose of the cloud for a moment, and then got up again.

“Christopher— ow! —Robin,”called out the cloud.

“Yes?”

“I have just been thinking, and I have come to a very important decision. These are the wrong sort of bees.”

“Are they?”

“Quite the wrong sort. So I should think they would make the wrong sort of honey, shouldn’t you?”

“Would they?”

“Yes. So I think I shall come down.”

“How?” asked you.

Winnie- the- Pooh hadn’t thought about this. If he let go of the string, he would fall— bump— and he didn’t like the idea of that. So he thought for a long time, and then he said:

“Christopher Robin, you must shoot the balloon with your gun. Have you got your gun?”

“Of course I have,” you said. “But if I do that, it will spoil the balloon,”you said.

“But if you don’t,” said Pooh, “I shall have to let go, and that would spoil me.”

When you put it like this, you saw how it was, and you aimed very carefully at the balloon, and fired.

“Ow!” said Pooh.

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