“I’m afraid not,” Bambi answered. “I never did have that pleasure.”
“That’s what I thought!” exclaimed the squirrel in satisfaction. “My father was so surly and shy. He didn’t have any contact with anyone.”
“Where is he now?” Bambi asked.
“Oh,” said the squirrel, “a month ago the owl got him. Yes. And now it’s me who lives up here. I’m very satisfied with it. Just think, it was up here that I was born.”
Bambi began to turn and was about to go.
“Wait,” called the squirrel quickly. “I didn’t really mean to tell you all that stuff. I wanted to say something completely different.”
Bambi stayed where he was. “What was that then?” he asked patiently.
“Yeah ... what was that?” The squirrel thought about it, then made another sudden leap, sat upright leaning against his magnificent bushy tail, and looked at Bambi. “Right! Now I’ve got it,” he continued to burble. “I wanted to tell you that you’ll soon be ready with that crown of yours, and it’s going to be very beautiful.”
“Do you think so?” asked Bambi, pleased.
“Beautiful!” declared the squirrel, and in his enthusiasm he pressed both his forepaws against his white breast. “So high! So majestic! And such long, bright points! You don’t often find them like that!”