that night, for he had
made up his mind to teach his bad-tempered wife a lesson she would never
forget.

So he welcomed her kindly to his house, but when supper was served
he found fault with everything--the meat was burnt, he said, and
ill-served, and he loved her far too much to let her eat anything but
the best. At last Katharine, tired out with her journey, went supperless
to bed. Then her husband, still telling her how he loved her, and how
anxious he was that she should sleep well, pulled her bed to pieces,
throwing the pillows and bedclothes on the floor, so that she could not
go to bed at all, and still kept growling and scolding at the servants
so that Kate might see how unbeautiful a thing ill-temper was.

The next day, too, Katharine's food was all found fault with, and caught
away before she could touch a mouthful, and she was sick and giddy for
want of sleep. Then she said to one of the servants--

"I pray thee go and get me some repast. I care not what."

"What say you to a neat's foot?" said the servant.

Katharine said "Yes," eagerly; but the servant, who was in his master's
secret, said he feared it was not good for hasty-tempered people. Would
she like tripe?

"Bring it me," said Katharine.

"I don't think that is good for hasty-tempered people," said the
servant. "What do you say to a dish of beef and mustard?"

"I love it," said Kate.

"But mustard is too hot."

"Why, then, the beef, and let the mustard go," cried Katharine, who was
getting hungrier and hungrier.

"No," said the servant, "you must have the mustard, or you get no beef
from me."

"Then," cried Katharine, losing patience, "let it be both, or one, or
anything thou wilt."

"Why, then," said the servant, "the mustard without the beef!"

Then Katharine saw he was making fun of her, and boxed his ears.

Just then Petruchio brought her some food--but she had scarcely begun
to satisfy her hunger, before he called for the tailor to bring her new
clothes, and the table was cleared, leaving her still hungry. Katharine
was pleased with the pretty new dress and cap that the tailor had made
for her, but Petruchio found fault with everything, flung the cap and
gown on the floor vowing his dear wife should not wear any such foolish
things.

"I will have them," cried Katharine. "All gentlewomen wear such caps as
these--"

"When you are gentle you shall have one too," he answered, "and not
till then." When he had driven away the t