His eyelids were swollen with stings, but his little round stomach was swollen with honey, so he didn't care a cent.

His face was all daubed with honey, and earth, and leaves, and dead bees.

His whole body was a sight.

And his claws were so stuck up with honey and rotten wood and bark that he kept opening and shutting them like a baby who has got a feather stuck to its fingers and doesn't know what to do with it, But he was too sleepy to bother about his appearance.

He just waddled over to a sort of nook between the roots of the next tree, curled up with his sticky nose between his sticky paws, and was soon snoring." "And did he ever get out of that deep hole ?" inquired the Babe, always impatient of the abrupt way in which Uncle Andy was wont to end his stories.
"Of course he got out.