Farmer.—Ha, I wish I could catch that beast now in Teivi.
Myself.—Why so?
Farmer.—Because I want hat. Would make myself hat of his skin.
Myself.—Oh, you could not make yourself a hat even if you had the skin.
Farmer.—Why not? Shot coney in Bunk Pen Banedd; made myself cap of his skin. So why not make hat of skin of broadtail, should I catch him in Teivi?
Myself.—How far is it to Tregaron?
Farmer.—’Tis ten miles from here, and eight from the Rhyd Fendigaid.
Myself.—Must I go back to Rhyd Fendigaid to get to Tregaron?
Farmer.—You must.
Myself.—Then I must be going, for the night is coming down. Farewell!