LAURA. There are going to be dozens of firms in the field, and they'll all want yearly models.
TIPPY. [Sticking his head in door.] Attention! Sergeant Holden, go at once to the nearest Commissary and requisition 454 grams of sucrose.
[KEN salutes and goes. The girls stare after him.]
KATE. Now what in the world!
TIPPY. Sugar, Katie. Sugar.
KATE. But how much?
TIPPY. One pound. He understood. A year in Paris, you know.
LAURA. Oh, I'm so sorry! I forgot sugar.
TIPPY. Sorry? It gives him a chance to buy something.--Your failure to understand the masculine nature is appalling.
KATE. I'll bet you had sugar.