"Poor old Eeyore. I'll dry it for you," said Christopher Robin, and he took out his handkerchief and rubbed it up.
"Thank you, Christopher Robin. You're the only one who seems to understand about tails. They don't think—that's what the matter with some of these others. They've no imagination. A tail isn't a tail to them, it's just a Little Bit Extra at the back."
"Never mind, Eeyore," said Christopher Robin, rubbing his hardest. "Is that better?"
"It's feeling more like a tail perhaps. It Belongs again, if you know what I mean."
"Hullo, Eeyore," said Pooh, coming up to them with his pole.
"Hullo, Pooh. Thank you for asking, but I shall be able to use it again in a day or two."
"Use what?" said Pooh.
"What we are talking about."
"I wasn't talking about anything," said Pooh, looking puzzled.
"My mistake again. I thought you were saying how sorry you were about my tail, being all numb, and could you do anything to help?"