AND IT RAINED

With one eye cocked on the weather, another on the clock, the tension mounts. . . will the pig, the parrot and the potto ever have a proper tea? Daily they assemble at four, repeatedly it rains at five after—"The tea is weak," squeals the pig; "The biscuits are soggy," squawks the parrot; "Our tea party is ruined!" cries the potto (a curly-eared cousin, to a panda), How to get round the rain? Every tactic fails until the potto makes allowances for the weather by serving, very hard biscuits and weak, weak tea. "It rained and it rained, and it rained some more. The rain softened the biscuits; the rain weakened the tea. . . `Hurrah! Our tea party is not ruined!' " So they carry on contentedly except for "one rare day, the sixteenth of September two years ago. That day it didn't rain." The "all-star cast of characters," singled out at the close, includes lanky bird-watcher Sir Benjamin, two bongos, and the bespectacled author. . . who merits applause for another impeccable cockeyed creation.