When Vardiello saw this sad accident, he bethought himself how
to remedy the evil; and making a virtue of necessity, in order to
prevent the eggs growing cold, he set himself down upon the nest;
but in doing so, he gave the eggs an unlucky blow, and quickly
made an omelet of them. In despair at what he had done, he was on
the point of knocking his head against the wall; at last, however, as
all grief turns to hunger, feeling his stomach begin to grumble, he
resolved to eat up the hen. So he plucked her, and sticking her
upon a spit, he made a great fire, and set to work to roast her. And
when she was cooked, Vardiello, to do everything in due order,
spread a clean cloth upon an old chest; and then, taking a flagon,
he went down into the cellar to draw some wine. But just as he
was in the midst of drawing the wine, he heard a noise, a
disturbance, an uproar in the house, which seemed like the
clattering of horses' hoofs. Whereat starting up in alarm and
turning his eyes, he saw a big tom-cat, which had run off with the
hen, spit and all; and another cat chasing after him, mewing, and
crying out for a part.

Vardiello, in order to set this mishap to rights, darted upon the cat
like an unchained lion, and in his haste he left the tap of the barrel
running. And after chasing the cat through every hole and corner
of the house, he recovered the hen; but the cask had meanwhile all
run out; and when Vardiello returned, and saw the wine running
about, he let the cask of his soul empty itself through the tap-holes
of his eyes. But at last judgment came to his aid and he hit upon a
plan to remedy the mischief, and prevent his mother's finding out
what had happened; so, taking a sack of flour, filled full to the
mouth, he sprinkled it over the wine on the floor.