Pooh and Piglet were sitting on a green painted curlicue bench in Christopher Robin’s garden, dangling their little plush legs which were too short to reach the ground. They were chewing on stale crusts, which in happier times they would have taken to the duck pond. Pooh thrust his paw into the tired brown paper bag which Piglet was holding, and pulled it out again.
‘Hey! You’ve eaten the last one, you greedy pig.’
‘The word ‘greedy’ I resent’ said Piglet drawing up his shoulders with hurt pride and crumpling up the bag, ‘I’ve only eaten one. You had the rest.’
‘Whatever. There’s not enough food in this place to keep a gnat alive. My tummy’s rumbling.’
‘I know. We’re stony broke. If Christopher Robin and his lot hadn’t been whooping it up on the credit cards for the last thirteen years, we wouldn’t be in this mess.’
‘Retrospection is all very well, you pocket-sized politician, but it doesn’t put food on the table. We need a plan.’ Pooh slumped mournfully.
‘I know!’ Piglet threw the balled paper bag up in the air and caught it again. ‘Let’s have a Royal Wedding. We’ll make loads of dosh.’
‘Well I don’t know. I don’t think selling a few tatty commemoration ceramics and setting up a ginger beer stall is going to solve our problem.’
‘But it’s a start, Pooh. It'll bring in the crowds.’
‘Two difficulties: We need a prince and we need a bride for him to marry.’ Pooh was scornful. ‘There aren’t any of those round here.’
‘Christopher Robin is posh, he’ll be perfect,’ declared Piglet.
‘But he’s only nine. I don’t think you’re allowed to marry at nine in this country.’
Piglet was not dismayed.
Piglet was not dismayed.
‘How about Eeyore? He’s single. Getting married might cheer him up.’
‘Cheering him up isn’t the point. He’s not photogenic. Imagine the wedding portraits.’
‘What about that Mr Toad, from the other book? He’s got gold taps in his bathroom.’
‘Who’d marry an ugly mug like him? Nobody.’
‘I’m not so sure, Pooh. I’ve read stories where princesses marry amphibians all the time.’
‘I suppose so, but where do we find the bride? All our friends in the Hundred Acre Wood are boys. There’s a distinct shortage of women round here.’
‘There’s Kanga. She’s quite pretty - for a marsupial. Put her in a white dress and a veil. She’d make a smashing bride - oh, and a long train to cover the tail. No-one’d ever guess.
‘No can do.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Roo, in a word. Sad little bastard.’
‘Yes. You never hear any talk of a Mr Kanga do you? I think Kanga’s got a murky past. Our bride has got to be whiter than white.’
‘I can’t think of anyone else, Pooh.’ Piglet was unhappy that they hadn’t solved their cash crisis. ‘No wedding then. I guess we’re back to square one.’Pooh gave a huge sigh. They'd have to think of another way of raising money.