Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

The Verdi luncheon always begins with a soup. You know that.
Alright, alright.
Give the dame a break! She's singing her heart out.
But I'm a first-rate friend, the latter outweighing the former, I feel.
Hmm. You take the words right out of my mouth.
Cosmé McMoon from San Antonio, Texas, played Carnegie Hall.
That hack knows absolutely nothing.
Thank you. Tickets, please.
Find a breath, Florence.
Why don't we go away for a few days, yes? Golf? Hamptons?
<i>- ♪ You amuse me</i> - For God's sake, woman, keep quiet.
Well, my second cousin twice removed has been married twice before
They're going to love you.
We now come to the finale of our evening.
Hoodlums! Hoodlums as you call them, Mr Totten,
Kathleen! Wait!
How did she get on the radio?
Madam Florence is taking to the stage once more?
- What loveliness. - Hmm.
But you've never sounded better.
<i>♪ Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!</i>
Dance, St Clair, dance. I wanna see you dance.
Course, he did cut me off,
The <i>Post,</i> please. Thank you.
Oh, no, please don't remind me.
And I had very high hopes of becoming a concert pianist mys...
Thank you, Madam Florence.
Bravo!
<i>♪ Et riant a la nuit</i>
- Surely he'd understand. - It's too late.
Very good. We'll... We'll be in touch.
How about that?
And at this dark moment in our history,
<i>♪ Ha! Ha!</i>
<i>♪ I'll sing no more...</i>
- I'm so excited! - It's a wonderful idea, Bunny.
But once I had, I felt free from the tyranny of ambition.
How do you do, sir? I saw you conduct <i>La Bohème</i> last season.
There's work to be done.
Will you forgive me? I have an important nose to powder.
- She's in the hall. - Ah. Thank you.
- Bunny, you must relax. - Where is he? Where is Cosmé?
Hmm.
He's a desperate man.
Oh, the <i>Post</i> always covers Carnegie Hall.
I was performing in a musicale at the Waldorf, 1919.
Bravo, my love.
Yeah, it is, isn't it?
Oh, baby!
You will buy the papers in the morning, won't you?
They're all rather... heavy-handed, I'm afraid.
- I love you, St Clair. - Hmm. With knobs on.
- How was Augustus's play? - Oh, terrible.
I'll talk to her.
Well, it's quite a house, Bunny.
It was a lovely weekend.
<i>Mr Crooks, would you play Brahms's "Lullaby"?</i>
and go and join the hepcats?
- Very good. I'll take that. - Thank you, Mr Bayfield.
Her phrasing is haphazard.
- Goodbye. - Bye.
- We've been rehearsing for a month. - Well, I know.
Can you imagine what that must feel like?
Kathleen, try this one. I did suggest it earlier.
- Thank you, sir. - Thank you.
- I shall. - Good morning, Patrick.
- Already? How come? - You won't believe it.
Welcome, Mr McMoon.
- Mr Wilson, are you leaving already? - Here you are, sir.
And no one would enjoy seeing you triumph here more than I, obviously.
Sorry.
Course, he came round eventually and then I was back in the will.
Oh, golly. Oh, golly gosh.
Bravo, Madam Florence! Bravo!
- Oh, phooey. - So I think it'd...
"And the consensus was that she'd never sung better."
Kiss monster.
- Really? - Yes, I played at the White House.
- Oh, nuts. - Give me some fries with that shake!
<i>♪ I'd rather die</i>
No, shh, shh. Shh, shh. Shush, my love. Shh, shh.
of the Brooklyn Orchestra for Distressed Gentlewomen,