Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

It ain't fitting for a girl to get married if she can't cook.
I got you trapped now!
Why, that was a two-quart crock.
Oh, yeah.
See?
You know something, I think I'm going to be a movie star instead of a scientist or a brain surgeon.
What I do need, Maurice, is something perfectly exquisite to take my mind off those dreadful hillbillies.
Will she accept?
Who is she?
I agree.
Oh, here they are.
She didn't fool me.
She's a mite snappish when she's first unwrapped.
How much is it?
I'm Mrs. Milford Drysdale.
Then you have my word, Margaret.
Up in the tree, and if she wants it, she can come get it herself.
Oh, what an exciting experience!
No, madame.
All there was.
I reckon so, Pa.
Come on, drive on, you drunk.
Is the Princess, that is, Her Highness, staying at Beverly Hills long?
Yes, you're welcome, Uncle Jeff, but I pretty much lost my leg doing it.
Mrs. Strasdale would be thrilled at the prospect.
Open the door, Limmie.
That divine creature who just... There she is again!
Kyle, have you had your head up a stovepipe while your hair is as black as soot?
Probably traveling in complete show.
The Beverly Hillbilly.
Jethro, how about shinnying up that tree and getting her down?
Not me!