A long time ago, in the middle of a cold a stormy night, I was about to head upstairs to bed after a late night reading, when I heard three strong knocks at my front door. Intrigued, I cautiously opened the door, but frowned once I realised no-one was there!

All of a sudden, a small sniffle came from my doorstep and when I peered down I found a very tiny, adorable, brown bear cub with a cute, hand knitted, purple blanket. Not really knowing what else to do, I picked the baby bear up, took it inside with me and called for one of my servants to look after it and give it some milk or something until the morning, when I hoped to be able to find the bear a proper home (I’m not a huge fan of animals, and I’m in no way capable of looking after an infant bear).

In the morning, I carried the bear into a carriage and journeyed to where my sister was staying, which luckily was only about an hour away. My sister was delighted once she saw what I had brought for her and immediately started cuddling her new daughter (apparently it was obvious the bear was a girl, but I regret that noticing the gender of bears is not one of my specialities).

While I was off doing whatever I wanted, my sister stayed with the bear and looked after her for years. She made the bear so many hats, and jumpers, and gloves, and socks, and stockings, and skirts, and dresses, that you would have thought this bear owned a clothes shop!

I did visit every now and then, but the small bear always seemed to prefer the touch of my sister than anyone else (can’t say I blame the poor thing, I almost dropped her once!). I felt comforted with the knowledge that my sister had a new companion and the bear was being well looked after.