"Two hundred head of cattle, that's what we want to buy."
I looked back at the two cowboys stood on my doorstep. This was getting stupid. Yesterday, the council came 'round and tore down the railway line - which apparently lacked planning permission, and also sped trains onto a busy road and killed a lot of people - which left several carriages sitting around in my garden, looking bored. From these carriages, in due course, had opened shyly and released a large amount of cows, who proceeded to moo and wander around my garden. Since no-one else seemed to claim ownership of the creatures - who were now debated the works of Socrates and eating my hats - they were assumed to belong to me. As such, any passing cow fancier was attempting to purchase the animals from me for what they thought a fair price. To bring this paragraph back to where it began, I shall explain that these men were two such would-be cow buyers.
"Well," I replied. "Two hundred head? Yes. Yes, that sounds fine."
I then sold them two hundred cows, and they left. My sale made a rather pleasing conclusion to the incident, which is more than can be said for this sentence.