'Hmm?'
'D'you think the Sheriff of Nottingham will bump into Major Tom?'
'The Sheriff--? He's not gone too, has he?'
'Just.'
'Gosh. Well, you know, it's big. Up There. Bigger than the Hundred Acre Wood.'
'Is it? I didn't think anything was.'
'Oh, yes.'
'Goodness . . . I suppose, too, there's the matter of the shirts.'
'Shirts, Pooh?'
'He might have spilled the beans.'
'Who?'
'The Sheriff.'
'Who to? To whom? Who tomb?'
'The papers.'
'About what?'
'Tom's choice of shirts.'
'Pooh, that might not have been uppermost on his mind.'
'No, probably not. Well ... bright side, eh? They might get on famously.'
'They might at that.'
'And dance away eternity.'
'Dance?'
'Tom's hum, Piglet--
Here am I practising the can-can
far above the world.'
'Far above the world . . . gosh, they're lucky.'
'Aren't they, though.'
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