Rose: Dorothy's right. You're worrying for nothing. I remember back in St. Ol-
Dorothy: Hold it right there, Will Rogers. None of us is in the mood to hear one of those St. Olaf stories.
Rose: Well, then, here's one against your will. But to show you I'm a good sport, I'll get right to the part that'll make Blanche feel better. Ah. Anyway everybody in the village hated Ingmar. So we grabbed our torches and climbed the hill to his castle and pounded on the great oak door, but there was no answer. So we got a ladder, climbed up to the window, and we peeked in, and to our relief, there was Ingmar lying on the - Oh, wait a minute. He was dead.