(Telka) “So well, Polly, I do go, for ’tis swine o’ worth amore than color daub. Set thee, since thou be wench.”
(Franco) “Look ye, Telka, ’tis here I cast the cloak and show thee metal abared. Thou hast ridden ’pon a high nag for days, and I do kick his hock and set him at a limp. Do thou to clip thy words ashort or I do cast a stone athro’ thy bubble.”
(Telka) “Ah, Franco, ’tis nay meaning! Put here. Do spin thy tale, but do ye first to leave me fetch the wee-squeals. Then I do be a tamed dove. See ye?”
(Franco) “Away, then, and fetch thee back ahurry.” (Exit Telka.)
(Franco) “Marion, ’tis what that I should put as path to tread? She be awronged but do I feed the fires, or put a stop?”
(Marion) “Franco, ’tis a pot and stew she loveth. Think ye to coax thy dream-forms from out the pot? Telka arounded and awrathed be like unto a thunder-storm, but Telka less the wrath and round, be Winter’s dreary.”
(Franco) “Not so, Marion, I shall then call forth the ghosts o’ painted pots and touch the dreary abloom. Didst thou e’er to slit thy eye and view thro’ afar? Dost thou then behold the motes? So, then, shall I to view the Telka maid. Whist! Here she be! Aback, Telka? Come, I itch for to spin a tale. Sit thee here and dry the wet sparkles from thy curls. List, do!
“’Twere a peddle-packer who did stroll adown the blade-strewn path along the village edge, abent. And brow-shagged eye did hide a twinkle-mirth aneath——”
“E-e-ek! E-e-e-k!”
(Telka) “Look, Franco, see they ’e-e-e-k’ do I to pull their tails uncurl!”