Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Just a mite greasy from all that oil you smear on yourself.
All right.
You didn't even guess one ingredient.
Come a-swoopin', like a dove.
Ah, Kipling.
How now, brown cow?
Next year, she'll be too old to get a husband.
Yes, dear one.
Oh, I ain't scared.
What charms were you toting?
And as we walk, we always keep a smile upon our face.
That is correct.
Here you are, Ellie.
What's in it, Granny?
I know.
Darling, darling, you're delirious.
Oh, here, bring some of this penicillin.
You.
I ain't never Kipled.
I want to help her.
I can't wait to see Ellie all polished up and talking like Sonny and Miss Jean.
While I transfuse into this simple, untutored mind the charm, the polish, the splendor,
You look pure Park Avenue and you speak pure Tobacco Road.
Sure is.
And it's high time you got one, being a widower.
What say you to that, fair maiden?