The next day, after the midday meal, Pwyll said to Manawydan, “Let us walk again on the mount. But this time, we’ll bring my horse along.”
So once more they climbed the mount. And they had not sat long when they saw the same lady, in the same dress and veil, on the same horse, on the same road, coming at the same slow, steady pace.
Pwyll speedily mounted his horse, but as he reached the foot of the mount, she was already riding past the spot. Then he let his horse prance after, thinking to easily overtake her. When he did not, he gave his horse the rein. It began to trot, yet fell even farther behind. Then he spurred it to a gallop—but at its greatest speed, it lost more ground than ever. And still the lady rode no faster than a walk.
At last his horse began to fail, and he called out, “Lady, in the name of the man you hold dearest, please halt.”
“I will,” she said. “And for the sake of your horse, you could have asked it sooner.”