"What makes you look so, my dear?" said she. "Did you not have a good time?"
"O yes," said he, "good enough,—but that gate put me out. I wonder what's the matter with it. It's got to be fixed. I won't be bothered and worried in this way."
"It shall all be made right in the morning," said his wife. "But are you sure you did not take anything that disagreed with you while you were away?"
"Perhaps I did," said he. "It might have been the mince-pies. They told me they were temperance pies, but I don't believe it."
"How many did you eat, my dear?" asked the good Giantess.
"Well, I don't know," said her husband. "About ten or eleven hundred, I suppose."
"That was too many for you," said his wife. "And I think you had better go to bed, and I will bring you something to make you feel better."
So the Giant went to bed, and as he slowly ascended the stairs, he winked to himself with his right eye. And his wife, she went into the kitchen, and winked to herself with her left eye.
After a while she came up to the Giant, and brought a barrel of hot chamomile tea; and when he had drank it all, she tucked him in, nice and warm, and the next morning he felt as well as ever.