Another Period (2013–…): Season 2, Episode 3 - The Prince and the Pauper - full transcript
The Commodore invites a prince to Bellacourt Manor, sparking an intense romantic rivalry between Lillian and Beatrice. Peepers clashes with the prince's servant over proper butler ...
Previously
on Another Period...
Chair has no idea it was me
who pushed her down the stairs.
You're under arrest
for the murder
of one Scoops LaPue.
I still have no idea
who the fuck that is.
Who would have guessed
there were two unmarried
Vanderbilts left?
Can't believe
you don't have wives.
Well, my first wife
actually died
- in a terrible hoopskirt fire.
- Aww.
Yes, and mine died
from turning 38.
That's awful.
One day she was 37,
and then the next thing
we knew--
Well, you two sound
like absolute delights.
Well, you gals do too.
Cheers.
So when can we meet
your daughters?
Uh, it's not our daughters
you'd be marrying.
- It's us.
- Mm-hmm.
We're our daughters.
Come on.
Where are they?
No, we're our daughters.
It's us.
We just wasted all afternoon
with you!
♪ I want the money,
I want the fame ♪
♪ I want the whole world
to know my name ♪
♪ This is mine,
I got to get it ♪
♪ I got to get it,
got, got to get it ♪
♪ Another Period ♪
Oh, yes.
Yep.
I really needed some awake sex
to relieve the stress of trying
to marry off my daughters.
Lillian and Beatrice have chased
off every eligible bachelor
on the eastern seaboard.
Do you always talk about
your daughters during sex?
You know what?
I guess I do.
Good?
Oh, good-bye, darling.
Good-bye.
Who the hell was that?
This is awful.
I blame our parents
for having us too early.
If they'd waited,
we'd be 20 right now.
Who knew that being
single women in 1903
with eight children wouldn't be
appealing to all men?
If we don't get married soon,
we're gonna turn into Hortense.
I have wonderful news.
Even though every man in Newport
has deemed you unworthy,
I found another suitor.
It's a prince looking
for a western queen.
So if one of you
can convince him to marry,
our financial problems
are solved.
So who wants to be a princess?
- Ooh, I do.
- I get to marry the prince.
I'm Lillian.
Wonderful.
I've arranged an ortolan feast
so the prince can come
and decide for himself.
Beatrice may have
the advantage of height,
bust size,
and being hyper-orgasmic,
but I have something
she could never have--
desperation.
No, it doesn't bother me
that I'm in competition
with my sister.
I didn't come here
to make sisters.
What the...?
Wreath?
I said "beef," Garfield, beef.
Not wreath.
I don't even celebrate
fucking Christmas.
So what are you in for?
Murder.
You?
Um...
staring.
I don't know why Garfield
keeps getting it wrong.
I was very clear in my note.
Here.
Let me show you something.
There.
That's clearly beef, right?
Um...
yeah.
I think I might know
what the issue is.
Would you mind drawing me
something else?
There.
What do you think that is?
Beef again?
Come on, man.
Of course not.
A circle?
It's a horse.
Think, man.
Look with your eyes.
Hey, if you want beef,
why don't you just write "beef"?
Because.
Oh, because what?
Because I can't read, okay?
Even though
I've committed murder
and treason and blackmail
and genocide,
still my greatest secret
is my illiteracy.
I'm so ashamed.
Don't you be ashamed.
You know what?
If you want to learn
how to read,
I'll teach you how to read.
Really?
Oh, no, no, no, no.
It's not that type of moment.
You stay on your side
of the bench.
The prince is coming today,
and even though
I've never met him,
I know that he is
the right person
to spend the rest
of my life with.
I've been lifting weights
with my vagina
in anticipation of my future
husband's arrival.
I hope he likes muscles.
I am Prince Apato,
and this is my loyal servant,
Parshwall.
Even though I've only known
Prince Apato for one day,
I know he's the love of my life,
and if he doesn't pick me,
I'm going to kill myself.
Very nice to meet you.
Very nice to meet you.
I'm sorry, but you've been
eliminated.
I'm not even part of this.
Meeting you feels like fate.
I've prepared a poem.
"Hello, Prince Apato.
What have you got-o?
I look forward
to marrying you...
...otto."
No one told me we were
supposed to prepare something!
I prepared a dance.
I admire your bravery.
Muscular dystrophy is very
prevalent in my country.
More champagne.
Sorry, sir, but I believe
that is my job.
Ah, apologies, but I am
the prince's butler.
I will pour.
Deeply sorry, sir, but you are
in Bellacourt Manor now,
and I am the butler here.
No, a thousand apologies,
but it seems that the prince's
flute has been left empty,
so there is no butler.
I deplore the braying
of the serving class.
Both of you,
out of my vision field.
So tell me, Prince,
what do you think of my girls?
In one word?
Enchanting.
Aww.
I cannot possibly choose
between the two of you,
so I will take each one
of you on a date
and see who charms me the most.
To true love.
And binding contracts.
And this is our kitchen,
likely more sophisticated
than you're used to
in the curried dustbowl
that is the subcontinent.
Flobelle, a moment.
I want to show our guests
tonight's supper.
Ortolans.
What is this woman doing?
Ortolans must be drowned
in a vat of armagnac
and then baked.
You could not be more wrong,
my good man.
No, the core body temperature
of the ortolan
must remain consistent
so that the innards
retain the right amount
of viscous.
Flobelle, put the birds
in the oven.
- Yes, sir.
- Flobelle.
Do not put the birds
in the oven.
How old is your buttling manual?
The preparation was amended
in 1898.
Well, that cannot
possibly be true.
I'm up-to-date on all
the peer-reviewed literature.
Actually, sir, that's correct.
To avoid humane treatment
of the bird,
one must drown, then bake,
so it dies in fear
of its impending death.
Thus you taste the fear.
And fear is fragrant.
Fear is food.
Yes.
Oh, this is absurd.
No, this is a housemaid
out-buttling a butler.
A beautiful housemaid,
at that.
Thank you.
I hope you didn't get burned
by all the sparks flying
when the prince and I first
laid eyes on each other.
Oh, I didn't notice.
I hope you didn't notice
that the prince is taking me
on the first date.
I also didn't notice too.
Hmm.
What's that?
Arsenic.
Mmm.
Just a little drop
will make me nice and pale
for my prince.
Well, I'm gonna make my skin
even lighter for the prince.
I want every vein in my face
to be visible.
Lady Lillian, too much arsenic
will make you...
Flobelle, if there's one thing
I know men love,
it's a veiny woman.
I have literally no boundaries
nor respect for myself,
and when it comes to men,
I'm more desperate
than a starving man
in front of a pile
of mashed potatoes.
Excuse me, older nurse.
I've been looking
for you everywhere.
Why?
I mean, all right.
Also, we're the same age.
I hate to ask you this,
but do you think
you could help me
find out who I was
or who I am?
Of course.
Mm-hmm.
D-O-G.
- Dog, dog.
- Yes!
I can't believe
I'm doing this.
Oh, you're doing splendid.
Why are you helping me
like this?
Well, you know,
it's my general rule
to stay on the good side
of a murderer.
Plus, it's either teach you
how to read
or try to masturbate
to this book on spelling,
and it's a lot harder
than you think.
- You ready to go again?
- Yeah.
- I'm not gonna spell it out.
- All right.
Hamish.
No, man, we--
we just did it.
It's "dog."
Oh, God, reading is so stupid.
All letters are just
squiggly pieces of shit.
Aw, come on.
Hey.
Hey, hey, hey.
Now, I bet your whole life,
people have been telling you
you're stupid,
and they're right.
You are stupid.
You-- you're very stupid.
Where-- where are you
going with this?
Oh, I'm sorry.
Once I get going, it--
My point is,
you're just smart enough
to stop being stupid.
You're so tender with me.
I don't play in the snow.
I set a boundary.
I'm gonna need you
to respect it.
Beatrice, maybe I'm crazy,
but I could really see you
bearing me a male heir.
No girls, please.
Oh, I would never
do that to you.
Would you be willing
to relocate for a land deal?
I can already picture
our transaction being finalized.
I haven't been traded for land
in so long.
I find hunting with a woman
to be very invigorating.
Me too,
but you know what I really like?
Hunting men.
You are a naughty girl,
aren't you?
Run, Garfield, run!
- Feel how close it is?
- Yes.
Like it?
Want it?
Lady Beatrice, stop.
Please don't kill Garfield.
He's the only one
the children like.
Allow me.
Here we go, Lady Beatrice.
Ah.
Hi, Princey.
Can I steal you for a second?
Hello?
Help-- help, please.
♪ turn up, turn up, turn up,
turn up ♪
♪ turn up the bass ♪
Was I scared?
Wouldn't you be
if you had to give a tour
to the woman you paralyzed?
Uh, let's go look
at the menstrual cleansing rooms
again, shall we?
No, no.
Keep going this way.
I'm starting to feel something.
Oh.
Okay.
Wait.
Go back.
Uh.
This staircase.
Throw me down the staircase.
What?
I'm sick of not
remembering who I am.
This might be the only way
for me to find out.
Uh.
I don't know, madam.
I don't think that's...
- Wait.
- Such a good idea.
Aren't I your boss?
Yes.
So as your boss,
I say throw me down.
Oh, God.
I know who I am.
I'm Chair.
Oh, God.
And I'm a bitch.
Oh, I'm so happy for you.
Someone threw me
down those stairs.
Do you remember who threw you
down those stairs?
Yes.
You did.
But who did it the first time?
I'm really looking forward
to my date with the prince.
We're going ballooning.
The sky's the limit,
and I'm not afraid of heights.
Oh, Princey,
this is so romantic.
Can I tell you something
in confidence?
I can't promise anything.
If I desire to tell your secret,
I'll probably just do it.
Well, I don't mean
to speak ill of Beatrice, but--
Are you all right?
Yes, I-- I'm fine.
As I was saying, I just think
Beatrice might be here
for the wrong reasons--
What is that odor?
And-- and you look pale.
Are you sure you're all right?
Oh, I do?
Oh, thank you.
No, I drank a bottle
of arsenic this morning.
It's a little beauty secret
we white women know about.
There wouldn't happen
to be a lavatory
in this wicker basket,
would there?
Um, no.
I don't think so.
Oh, my God.
Don't mind me.
So, Prince, are you looking
forward to badminton season?
Who's your favorite player?
I must know.
Parshwall,
land this thing now.
No, don't land it.
We are on a date right now.
Parshwall, have you
a handkerchief
to wipe my bottom?
Of-- of course, madam.
Uh, here you go.
No, could you wipe
my bottom for me, please?
- Well, I-- I--
- Oh, I'll do it myself.
No!
And when the third mouse
went blind, I was like, "What?"
- Mm-hmm.
- And then the cobbler's wife.
Oh, she is a handful, huh?
Yeah.
Heigh-ho, Hamish.
I got your note.
Yeah, well, I wrote it...
myself.
Oh, good.
Well, here's all
the beef I could...
...fit inside my--
my butt.
Oh.
Here.
I want you to have it.
Thank you.
Hey, quick question.
Why did you smuggle this
in your butt?
And I'm making
no judgments here.
I-- I'm just asking.
Oh, I read up on how to
smuggle things into prison.
Yeah, but you know, you
could've just brought it to us.
It's not illegal
to bring us food.
Well, I hadn't thought of it
that way.
Why do we have to wear napkins
on our heads?
It messes up my hair.
The ortolan is a food
so sinful
it must be shielded
from the watchful eyes of God.
Beatrice is such a dullard,
she doesn't even know
about the incredibly obscure
dining rituals of rural France.
Serve me.
I am handy with the brandy.
I am handy with the brandy.
No, I am handy
with the brandy.
Just because you memorized
ancient buttling rhymes
does not make you
a great butler.
I live those rhymes
every damn day.
Does this make me
a great butler?
Princesses,
you look so beautiful.
I don't know how I'm going
to be able to choose one.
This is the most difficult
decision I've ever had to make.
Ladies, this is the moment.
Prince Apato
has made his decision.
Lillian.
You have toilet paper
on your shoe.
The prince has made
his decision...
but I am not he.
Everyone, I present to you
the real Prince Apato.
Thank you, Parshwall.
Yes, it is true.
I am the real Prince Apato,
and I have chosen,
and I have decided...
both Bellacourt sisters
are unworthy.
No, Beatrice,
it's a bad thing.
He's not choosing us.
Is it because I talked
too much about badminton
in the hot air balloon?
It wasn't because
I diarrhea'd out the side
of the hot air balloon, was it?
Was it because I didn't
kill Garfield?
No, no, no, none of that,
although--
well, the diarrhea didn't help.
But Prince Apato, I love you.
No, I love you.
I-- I've loved you
ever since I learned
you weren't a lowly butler
35 seconds ago.
If you don't pick me,
I'm gonna kill myself.
No, sorry.
You've both been eliminated.
How could you do this to me?
We had a deal.
What I promised was
to pick a woman
from the Bellacourt household...
and I have.
Blanche.
Please.
Yes.
- This is a dream come true...
- Yes.
...for any woman.
For me too.
A thousand apologies, sirrah,
but I'm afraid I cannot permit
Blanche to leave.
No, Peepers, you can't
tell me what to do.
I'm a princess.
Actually, I can, Blanche.
I have full legal custody of you
according to the Mental Health
Addendum
to the 1903 Buttling Manual,
which came out today.
Read your manual, sir.
No, no, no, no,
because I am a princess now.
Princess Blanche.
Blanche, I'm afraid
he's right.
What?
You have ruined
a woman's life
for the honor of your master.
Why, Peepers, you are
the greatest butler of all.
I honor you, Peepers.
Thank you, sir.
Champagne for everyone.
Blanche, if you could
get some champagne, please.
- Mm-hmm.
- Thanks, run along.
Okay.
I feel so blindsided.
This came out of nowhere.
I was supposed to spend
the rest of my life
with Parshwall.
I can't believe that
I held hands with a servant.
Ugh.
I just don't understand
how he could look me in the eyes
and-- and tell me
he wanted to trade land
and power and resources
for one of my daughters
and not even mean it.
Was everything we had a lie?
on Another Period...
Chair has no idea it was me
who pushed her down the stairs.
You're under arrest
for the murder
of one Scoops LaPue.
I still have no idea
who the fuck that is.
Who would have guessed
there were two unmarried
Vanderbilts left?
Can't believe
you don't have wives.
Well, my first wife
actually died
- in a terrible hoopskirt fire.
- Aww.
Yes, and mine died
from turning 38.
That's awful.
One day she was 37,
and then the next thing
we knew--
Well, you two sound
like absolute delights.
Well, you gals do too.
Cheers.
So when can we meet
your daughters?
Uh, it's not our daughters
you'd be marrying.
- It's us.
- Mm-hmm.
We're our daughters.
Come on.
Where are they?
No, we're our daughters.
It's us.
We just wasted all afternoon
with you!
♪ I want the money,
I want the fame ♪
♪ I want the whole world
to know my name ♪
♪ This is mine,
I got to get it ♪
♪ I got to get it,
got, got to get it ♪
♪ Another Period ♪
Oh, yes.
Yep.
I really needed some awake sex
to relieve the stress of trying
to marry off my daughters.
Lillian and Beatrice have chased
off every eligible bachelor
on the eastern seaboard.
Do you always talk about
your daughters during sex?
You know what?
I guess I do.
Good?
Oh, good-bye, darling.
Good-bye.
Who the hell was that?
This is awful.
I blame our parents
for having us too early.
If they'd waited,
we'd be 20 right now.
Who knew that being
single women in 1903
with eight children wouldn't be
appealing to all men?
If we don't get married soon,
we're gonna turn into Hortense.
I have wonderful news.
Even though every man in Newport
has deemed you unworthy,
I found another suitor.
It's a prince looking
for a western queen.
So if one of you
can convince him to marry,
our financial problems
are solved.
So who wants to be a princess?
- Ooh, I do.
- I get to marry the prince.
I'm Lillian.
Wonderful.
I've arranged an ortolan feast
so the prince can come
and decide for himself.
Beatrice may have
the advantage of height,
bust size,
and being hyper-orgasmic,
but I have something
she could never have--
desperation.
No, it doesn't bother me
that I'm in competition
with my sister.
I didn't come here
to make sisters.
What the...?
Wreath?
I said "beef," Garfield, beef.
Not wreath.
I don't even celebrate
fucking Christmas.
So what are you in for?
Murder.
You?
Um...
staring.
I don't know why Garfield
keeps getting it wrong.
I was very clear in my note.
Here.
Let me show you something.
There.
That's clearly beef, right?
Um...
yeah.
I think I might know
what the issue is.
Would you mind drawing me
something else?
There.
What do you think that is?
Beef again?
Come on, man.
Of course not.
A circle?
It's a horse.
Think, man.
Look with your eyes.
Hey, if you want beef,
why don't you just write "beef"?
Because.
Oh, because what?
Because I can't read, okay?
Even though
I've committed murder
and treason and blackmail
and genocide,
still my greatest secret
is my illiteracy.
I'm so ashamed.
Don't you be ashamed.
You know what?
If you want to learn
how to read,
I'll teach you how to read.
Really?
Oh, no, no, no, no.
It's not that type of moment.
You stay on your side
of the bench.
The prince is coming today,
and even though
I've never met him,
I know that he is
the right person
to spend the rest
of my life with.
I've been lifting weights
with my vagina
in anticipation of my future
husband's arrival.
I hope he likes muscles.
I am Prince Apato,
and this is my loyal servant,
Parshwall.
Even though I've only known
Prince Apato for one day,
I know he's the love of my life,
and if he doesn't pick me,
I'm going to kill myself.
Very nice to meet you.
Very nice to meet you.
I'm sorry, but you've been
eliminated.
I'm not even part of this.
Meeting you feels like fate.
I've prepared a poem.
"Hello, Prince Apato.
What have you got-o?
I look forward
to marrying you...
...otto."
No one told me we were
supposed to prepare something!
I prepared a dance.
I admire your bravery.
Muscular dystrophy is very
prevalent in my country.
More champagne.
Sorry, sir, but I believe
that is my job.
Ah, apologies, but I am
the prince's butler.
I will pour.
Deeply sorry, sir, but you are
in Bellacourt Manor now,
and I am the butler here.
No, a thousand apologies,
but it seems that the prince's
flute has been left empty,
so there is no butler.
I deplore the braying
of the serving class.
Both of you,
out of my vision field.
So tell me, Prince,
what do you think of my girls?
In one word?
Enchanting.
Aww.
I cannot possibly choose
between the two of you,
so I will take each one
of you on a date
and see who charms me the most.
To true love.
And binding contracts.
And this is our kitchen,
likely more sophisticated
than you're used to
in the curried dustbowl
that is the subcontinent.
Flobelle, a moment.
I want to show our guests
tonight's supper.
Ortolans.
What is this woman doing?
Ortolans must be drowned
in a vat of armagnac
and then baked.
You could not be more wrong,
my good man.
No, the core body temperature
of the ortolan
must remain consistent
so that the innards
retain the right amount
of viscous.
Flobelle, put the birds
in the oven.
- Yes, sir.
- Flobelle.
Do not put the birds
in the oven.
How old is your buttling manual?
The preparation was amended
in 1898.
Well, that cannot
possibly be true.
I'm up-to-date on all
the peer-reviewed literature.
Actually, sir, that's correct.
To avoid humane treatment
of the bird,
one must drown, then bake,
so it dies in fear
of its impending death.
Thus you taste the fear.
And fear is fragrant.
Fear is food.
Yes.
Oh, this is absurd.
No, this is a housemaid
out-buttling a butler.
A beautiful housemaid,
at that.
Thank you.
I hope you didn't get burned
by all the sparks flying
when the prince and I first
laid eyes on each other.
Oh, I didn't notice.
I hope you didn't notice
that the prince is taking me
on the first date.
I also didn't notice too.
Hmm.
What's that?
Arsenic.
Mmm.
Just a little drop
will make me nice and pale
for my prince.
Well, I'm gonna make my skin
even lighter for the prince.
I want every vein in my face
to be visible.
Lady Lillian, too much arsenic
will make you...
Flobelle, if there's one thing
I know men love,
it's a veiny woman.
I have literally no boundaries
nor respect for myself,
and when it comes to men,
I'm more desperate
than a starving man
in front of a pile
of mashed potatoes.
Excuse me, older nurse.
I've been looking
for you everywhere.
Why?
I mean, all right.
Also, we're the same age.
I hate to ask you this,
but do you think
you could help me
find out who I was
or who I am?
Of course.
Mm-hmm.
D-O-G.
- Dog, dog.
- Yes!
I can't believe
I'm doing this.
Oh, you're doing splendid.
Why are you helping me
like this?
Well, you know,
it's my general rule
to stay on the good side
of a murderer.
Plus, it's either teach you
how to read
or try to masturbate
to this book on spelling,
and it's a lot harder
than you think.
- You ready to go again?
- Yeah.
- I'm not gonna spell it out.
- All right.
Hamish.
No, man, we--
we just did it.
It's "dog."
Oh, God, reading is so stupid.
All letters are just
squiggly pieces of shit.
Aw, come on.
Hey.
Hey, hey, hey.
Now, I bet your whole life,
people have been telling you
you're stupid,
and they're right.
You are stupid.
You-- you're very stupid.
Where-- where are you
going with this?
Oh, I'm sorry.
Once I get going, it--
My point is,
you're just smart enough
to stop being stupid.
You're so tender with me.
I don't play in the snow.
I set a boundary.
I'm gonna need you
to respect it.
Beatrice, maybe I'm crazy,
but I could really see you
bearing me a male heir.
No girls, please.
Oh, I would never
do that to you.
Would you be willing
to relocate for a land deal?
I can already picture
our transaction being finalized.
I haven't been traded for land
in so long.
I find hunting with a woman
to be very invigorating.
Me too,
but you know what I really like?
Hunting men.
You are a naughty girl,
aren't you?
Run, Garfield, run!
- Feel how close it is?
- Yes.
Like it?
Want it?
Lady Beatrice, stop.
Please don't kill Garfield.
He's the only one
the children like.
Allow me.
Here we go, Lady Beatrice.
Ah.
Hi, Princey.
Can I steal you for a second?
Hello?
Help-- help, please.
♪ turn up, turn up, turn up,
turn up ♪
♪ turn up the bass ♪
Was I scared?
Wouldn't you be
if you had to give a tour
to the woman you paralyzed?
Uh, let's go look
at the menstrual cleansing rooms
again, shall we?
No, no.
Keep going this way.
I'm starting to feel something.
Oh.
Okay.
Wait.
Go back.
Uh.
This staircase.
Throw me down the staircase.
What?
I'm sick of not
remembering who I am.
This might be the only way
for me to find out.
Uh.
I don't know, madam.
I don't think that's...
- Wait.
- Such a good idea.
Aren't I your boss?
Yes.
So as your boss,
I say throw me down.
Oh, God.
I know who I am.
I'm Chair.
Oh, God.
And I'm a bitch.
Oh, I'm so happy for you.
Someone threw me
down those stairs.
Do you remember who threw you
down those stairs?
Yes.
You did.
But who did it the first time?
I'm really looking forward
to my date with the prince.
We're going ballooning.
The sky's the limit,
and I'm not afraid of heights.
Oh, Princey,
this is so romantic.
Can I tell you something
in confidence?
I can't promise anything.
If I desire to tell your secret,
I'll probably just do it.
Well, I don't mean
to speak ill of Beatrice, but--
Are you all right?
Yes, I-- I'm fine.
As I was saying, I just think
Beatrice might be here
for the wrong reasons--
What is that odor?
And-- and you look pale.
Are you sure you're all right?
Oh, I do?
Oh, thank you.
No, I drank a bottle
of arsenic this morning.
It's a little beauty secret
we white women know about.
There wouldn't happen
to be a lavatory
in this wicker basket,
would there?
Um, no.
I don't think so.
Oh, my God.
Don't mind me.
So, Prince, are you looking
forward to badminton season?
Who's your favorite player?
I must know.
Parshwall,
land this thing now.
No, don't land it.
We are on a date right now.
Parshwall, have you
a handkerchief
to wipe my bottom?
Of-- of course, madam.
Uh, here you go.
No, could you wipe
my bottom for me, please?
- Well, I-- I--
- Oh, I'll do it myself.
No!
And when the third mouse
went blind, I was like, "What?"
- Mm-hmm.
- And then the cobbler's wife.
Oh, she is a handful, huh?
Yeah.
Heigh-ho, Hamish.
I got your note.
Yeah, well, I wrote it...
myself.
Oh, good.
Well, here's all
the beef I could...
...fit inside my--
my butt.
Oh.
Here.
I want you to have it.
Thank you.
Hey, quick question.
Why did you smuggle this
in your butt?
And I'm making
no judgments here.
I-- I'm just asking.
Oh, I read up on how to
smuggle things into prison.
Yeah, but you know, you
could've just brought it to us.
It's not illegal
to bring us food.
Well, I hadn't thought of it
that way.
Why do we have to wear napkins
on our heads?
It messes up my hair.
The ortolan is a food
so sinful
it must be shielded
from the watchful eyes of God.
Beatrice is such a dullard,
she doesn't even know
about the incredibly obscure
dining rituals of rural France.
Serve me.
I am handy with the brandy.
I am handy with the brandy.
No, I am handy
with the brandy.
Just because you memorized
ancient buttling rhymes
does not make you
a great butler.
I live those rhymes
every damn day.
Does this make me
a great butler?
Princesses,
you look so beautiful.
I don't know how I'm going
to be able to choose one.
This is the most difficult
decision I've ever had to make.
Ladies, this is the moment.
Prince Apato
has made his decision.
Lillian.
You have toilet paper
on your shoe.
The prince has made
his decision...
but I am not he.
Everyone, I present to you
the real Prince Apato.
Thank you, Parshwall.
Yes, it is true.
I am the real Prince Apato,
and I have chosen,
and I have decided...
both Bellacourt sisters
are unworthy.
No, Beatrice,
it's a bad thing.
He's not choosing us.
Is it because I talked
too much about badminton
in the hot air balloon?
It wasn't because
I diarrhea'd out the side
of the hot air balloon, was it?
Was it because I didn't
kill Garfield?
No, no, no, none of that,
although--
well, the diarrhea didn't help.
But Prince Apato, I love you.
No, I love you.
I-- I've loved you
ever since I learned
you weren't a lowly butler
35 seconds ago.
If you don't pick me,
I'm gonna kill myself.
No, sorry.
You've both been eliminated.
How could you do this to me?
We had a deal.
What I promised was
to pick a woman
from the Bellacourt household...
and I have.
Blanche.
Please.
Yes.
- This is a dream come true...
- Yes.
...for any woman.
For me too.
A thousand apologies, sirrah,
but I'm afraid I cannot permit
Blanche to leave.
No, Peepers, you can't
tell me what to do.
I'm a princess.
Actually, I can, Blanche.
I have full legal custody of you
according to the Mental Health
Addendum
to the 1903 Buttling Manual,
which came out today.
Read your manual, sir.
No, no, no, no,
because I am a princess now.
Princess Blanche.
Blanche, I'm afraid
he's right.
What?
You have ruined
a woman's life
for the honor of your master.
Why, Peepers, you are
the greatest butler of all.
I honor you, Peepers.
Thank you, sir.
Champagne for everyone.
Blanche, if you could
get some champagne, please.
- Mm-hmm.
- Thanks, run along.
Okay.
I feel so blindsided.
This came out of nowhere.
I was supposed to spend
the rest of my life
with Parshwall.
I can't believe that
I held hands with a servant.
Ugh.
I just don't understand
how he could look me in the eyes
and-- and tell me
he wanted to trade land
and power and resources
for one of my daughters
and not even mean it.
Was everything we had a lie?