ailor with angry words--but
privately asking his friend to see him paid--Petruchio said--

"Come, Kate, let's go to your father's, shabby as we are, for as the
sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest
habit. It is about seven o'clock now. We shall easily get there by
dinner-time."

"It's nearly two," said Kate, but civilly enough, for she had grown to
see that she could not bully her husband, as she had done her father and
her sister; "it's nearly two, and it will be supper-time before we get
there."

"It shall be seven," said Petruchio, obstinately, "before I start. Why,
whatever I say or do, or think, you do nothing but contradict. I won't
go to-day, and before I do go, it shall be what o'clock I say it is."

At last they started for her father's house.

"Look at the moon," said he.

"It's the sun," said Katharine, and indeed it was.

"I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or moon, or
whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your father's."

Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. "What you will have it named,"
she said, "it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine." And so it was,
for from that moment Katharine felt that she had met her master, and
never again showed her naughty tempers to him, or anyone else.

So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they found
all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another newly
married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made welcome, and sat
down to the feast, and all was merry, save that Hortensio's wife, seeing
Katharine subdued to her husband, thought she could safely say many
disagreeable things, that in the old days, when Katharine was free and
froward, she would not have dared to say. But Katharine answered with
such spirit and such moderation, that she turned the laugh against the
new bride.

After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a laugh
against Petruchio, saying "Now in good sadness, son Petruchio, I fear
you have got the veriest shrew of all."

"You are wrong," said Petruchio, "let me prove it to you. Each of us
shall send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him, and the
one whose wife comes most readily shall win a wager which we will agree
on."

The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife the
most dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the wager.

They proposed a wager of twenty crowns.

"T