Lucy van Pelt: Do you like Beethoven?
Frieda: What?
Lucy van Pelt: If you're going to hang around here, you've got to like Beethoven.
Frieda: All right, but I'll just have a small glass.
[Schroeder stops playing when he realizes what she just said, then angerly pulls the piano out from under both of them]
Lucy van Pelt: You blew it, kid.
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