Loose lips sink ships.
He said empty your pockets!
What's so funny?
Take you the whole day to come up with that?
Nonsense. Apparently somebody has to teach a lesson to these children!
Your father meant for you to inherit his crown.
We were outnumbered.
If you refuse, you shall suffer dire consequences.
Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, a baby girl was born. Her skin was pure as snow. Her hair was dark as night. They called her Snow White. Probably because that was the most pretentious name they could come up with. As fate would have it, Snow White's mother died in childbirth. Left on his own...her father spoiled the young girl. He could afford to, of course. He was the king.
Snow White: Well, hello there. Would you like a treat? Here you go. Oh, I think the party's started.
Queen: F to D-9. To your left, Lord Waverly. If someone would please teach Lord Waverly his left from his right, I would be so very grateful.
Lord Waverly: Excuse me.
Lord: B to J-12. My lady, I feel it is my duty to tell you of the rumors that I've been hearing.
Lord: Well, there have been rumblings that the kingdom is close to destitute. If we were to join our two houses in marriage...I feel the gentry would be reassured that the kingdom was stable once again.
Queen: Brighton, a word, please.
Brighton: Yes, Your Majesty?
Queen: Loose lips sink ships.
Brighton: Yes, indeed, Your Majesty, exactly. Which ship would you like sunk?
Queen: It's an expression, Brighton. A royal decree. Take it down.
Brighton: Ah, marvelous.
Queen: Any busybodies...caught rumoring, gossiping, whispering, or even thinking shall be put to death. How does that sound?
Brighton: It's decisive.
Queen: Snow White. Is there a fire?
Snow White: Sorry?
Queen: Is your bedroom on fire? Because I'm searching for an explanation as to why you would be out of your bedroom and in here, and my first guess was fire.
Snow White: I thought maybe I could come to the gala, you know, because today is my 18th birthday.
Queen: Is it, now? Oh, my, oh, my. E to F-3, please. Snow White, maybe it is time I ease up on you. Hmm? After all, you've done nothing to me, caused no problems. And yet...there is something about you that's just so incredibly...irritating. I don't know what it is. The slumped shoulders. The hair, that voice... Mm! I know what it is. I think it is the hair. I hate your hair. I don't care if it's your 100th birthday. Don't ever sneak into a party like this again.