Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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