Blanche: Rose, honey, you've got to stop torturing yourself like this! Now Count Bessie is gone!
Rose: I know. It's just such a tragedy. Who cooks a musician at the height of her career?
Blanche: Rose, you've got to put this in perspective. Count Bessie was a chicken. It's not as if Angela had fried up Doc Severinsen!
Dorothy: [enters the kitchen] How are you doing, Rose?
Blanche: Not very good, Dorothy.
Dorothy: Oh, honey, now listen, you may not think so now, but in a few days, you'll feel better.
Rose: No, I won't. Because Mrs. Butell will be back by then. What am I supposed to say? "Welcome home! How was your trip? Oh, by the way..." [holds up Tupperware and starts to cry] "'s Count Bessie!"

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