A Letter to Three Wives

How do I fit in? Running a house,
making friends, filling the day.

Mrs. Bradbury Bishop.
"What's she like?"

"Fun to be with, smart as a whip,
pretty too.

No wonder Brad Bishop married her,
the lucky stiff."

Rita, look at me.
Look at my mail-order dress...

that's four years old
and awful even then.

What am I gonna do?
As if that really mattered.
You must think we're
an awful bunch of snobs.

Aren't you underestimating us
a little bit and Brad even more?

You know, it's just possible
he knew what he wanted and you had it.

And if you had it, you still got it.
I can't hear you. Sit up.
I said, "Thank you
for the kind words."

You're welcome.
Now, about the dress.

- Haven't you anything else?
- Only uniforms.

Oh. Well, stand up.
- The flowers must go.
- Flowers must go.

Have you any scissors?
- Scissors?
- Oh.

I'll get the ones on the sleeves.
You tackle the big one in the middle.

- Careful now.
- Careful now.

Now look what I did!
Oh. You don't want
a bare midriff, do you?

Tsk. Well, back goes the flower.
Sit down. Have you
got any safety pins?

- Bottom drawer.
- Oh.

- More wine?
- Thank you. No.