The wind was against them now, and Piglet's ears streamed behind him like banners as he fought his way along and it seemed hours before he got them into the shelter of the Hundred Acre Wood and they stood up straight again to listen, a little nervously, to the roaring of the gale among the treetops.
'Supposing a tree fell down Pooh, when we were underneath it?'
'Supposing,' said Pooh after careful thought, 'that it didn't.'
It didn't. Rose is fine.
