All language subtitles for 12 - Samanthas Thanksgiving to Remember

Gorgeous.

Aunt Clara, why didn't you tell me
you were coming?

Well, I didn't know.

Now, I was home in bed, asleep...

and unfortunately
I talk in my sleep.

Well, Aunt Clara,
I'll take care of that.

Oh, thank you, dear.

You're so talented.

Sweetheart, guess who
just dropped in.

Do I have to?

Aunt Clara.

Just in time for Thanksgiving dinner.

Isn't that wonderful?

I don't think he hears you.

- Darrin, can you hear me?
- No.

I told you so.

Excuse me, Aunt Clara.

- Don't do that.
- Don't you be rude to Aunt Clara.

I was looking forward to a peaceful
dinner with just the three of us.

It'll be a peaceful dinner
with just the four of us.

Wanna bet?

No, but she's here now, and we'll
just have to make the best of it.

Come on downstairs.

Oh, no, thank you, dear.

Tabatha, now Aunt Clara
will tell you...

all about the first Thanksgiving.

It was a blast.

We ate for three days.

- You were there?
- Why, yes, of course.

Oh, what memories.

The Pilgrims.

Plymouth Rock.

Miles Standish...

Priscilla...

John Alden...

Boston Blackie.

No. No, that's not quite right.

I think I'll go and check the turkey.

I think I'll make another drink.

Samantha. Darrin.

Would you mind
if I didn't stay to dinner?

Why, not at all.

I mean, we want you to do
what you want to do.

Well, I'd love to stay...

but reminiscing about Plymouth...

has made me homesick for
the girls I knew that settled there.

I'd like to visit them.

- We understand, Aunt Clara.
- I'll make a plane reservation for you.

No, no. No, that won't
be necessary.

I know what you're thinking.

But I'm perfectly capable of
getting there on my own power.

Turkey poult down
Send me back to Plymouth town

You sure you don't want
to take the plane?

- No, thank you.
- You'd love it.

- How about a train?
- No, thank you.

Wings of falcon

Turkey poult down

Take us back to Plymouth town

- Sam, where are we?
- Plymouth, of course.

What are you doing here?

Aunt Clara, we got caught
in your jet stream.

Hey, what is this?

Oh, I'm so sorry.

But don't you worry.

Now, I brought you here,
and if you don't want to stay...

- I'll zap you home.
- No, thanks.

You will not zap us home.

We will zoom home the
old-fashioned way. By jet airliner.

Sam, this is Plymouth.

- Seventeenth-century Plymouth.
- Yes.

Isn't it exciting? Well...

We've gotta get out of here. They
burned witches in the 17th century.

The ones they thought were witches.
Not the real ones.

The big witch hysteria
didn't start until much later.

Well, I don't like
even a little witch hysteria.

Sam, can't you think of some way
to zap us away from here?

Aunt Clara zapped us here,
and she has to zap us back.

What about our clothes?
How will we ever explain our clothes?

Oh, don't worry, sweetheart.
That, I can handle.

Now, sweetheart, don't worry.

- Greetings to thee, stranger.
- Greetings to thee.

We have come from
out of the wilderness.

We have marched
nearly 20 mile this day.

I warrant thou shalt have reason
for the giving of thanks.

Nay, we are poorly.

A crust of bread is all that standeth
between us and starvation.

Take thee and thy family to the table
of John Alden, 20 yards distance...

and join us with the Indians
on this day of feasting.

Are thou...?
I mean, art thou John Alden?

I am.

Imagine.

I didn't know you spoke Pilgrim.

We have been invited
to dinner by John Alden.

- Good morrow.
- Greetings.

Hi there. Everything okay?

'Tis a poor jest.

My husband meant thee no harm.

What's with him?

Well, "Hi there. Everything okay?"
is not exactly...

a popular 17th-century greeting.

Just follow my cue, and thou shalt
be as one with the others.

Aye, so be it.

I'll feel a lot better
when thine Aunt Clara...

getteth us the heck out of here.

Thou art groovy.

Greetings.

Why dost thou allow thy womenfolk
to eat and idle?

There are few enough to tend to
the cooking. Get thee to thy pots.

Don't speak to my wife
in that tone of voice.

I mean, speaketh not
to my wife thusly.

We'll get something to eat
with the womenfolk. Come on.

- Be careful.
- You too.

I'm so worried about you in
the 17th century, I couldn't eat a thing.

Thou art very sweet.

Maybe I could force myself.

All I had for breakfast
was puffed rice.

Puffed rice?

'Tis a jest.

He hath a penchant for poor jests.
This very morn, well...

Thou never couldst carve
a roast...

without adding a mite
of thine own blood.

'Tis the fault of this poor jester
and his strange womenfolk.

Aunt Clara, are you concentrating
on getting us out of here?

Oh, yes. Now, don't you worry.

- I'm getting closer.
- Oh, good.

Double, double, toil and trouble

Aunt Clara, this is no time
for Shakespeare.

You're supposed to zap us
back home.

Well, "double, double, toil and trouble"
seemed to fit the situation.

It fits. It just doesn't work.

I don't like this dream.
It's too much work.

Maybe it isn't a dream.

But if it isn't a dream, what is it?

And then he sayeth to me,
"That wast no lady, that wast my wife."

Captain Standish,
I do believe I saw Phineas laugh.

The festivities doth raise my spirits,
I'll not deny it.

Canst thou remember the last time
thy mood was so festive?

Aye, it was across the sea...

- at the burning of a witch.
- We hanged all our witches.

Oh, it were merrier to burn them.

You... I mean, thou findest pleasure
at the burning of a witch?

Indeed. Wouldst thou not?

Well, certainly not. Some of my...
I mean, some of my closest...

That is, I findeth other sports
more to my "fanthy." Fancy.

He speaks in a manner
that rings strangely to the ear.

Aye, and his womenfolk
are stranger.

The whole world seems strange
to thee, Phineas.

Honey, we have to get out of here.

I don't like that anti-witch talk
Phineas is spreading.

- It's dangerous for you.
- Now don't worry, sweetheart.

Aunt Clara is making some progress.

What do I do with this laundry bag?

It's not a laundry bag,
it's a pudding bag.

We have to dip it
in some boiling water.

Oh, we better get a fire started
under that pot.

I'll do it, honey.

- Anything else you'd like me to do?
- Witch!

Witch! There is a witch among us.

There is witchcraft here.
There is a witch among us.

- Who, her?
- No.

Him.

Sam, where's Tabatha?

Oh, she's playing
with the other children.

- She thinks this is great fun.
- Oh, it is.

I wouldn't miss it for the world.

They can't really burn me
as a witch, can they?

- Not while I'm around.
- You don't sound too convincing.

I don't? Well, I'm certainly trying.

Ye are accused of being a witch.

'Tis a grave charge.
What say ye to it?

It's ridic... 'Tis ridiculous.

I art not now,
nor hath I ever been a witch.

Admit to witchcraft
or it will go ill with you.

You'll be burned
for refusing to confess.

And if I do confess?

Then you'll be burned
for being a witch.

I don't supposeth thine has heard
of thy Bill of Rights?

Can ye not speak more plainly?

What I meaneth to say "ith"...
I mean, is hath I no rights at all?

Indeed, in this village ye do.

Speak for yourself, John.

Let us hear evidence
before lighting any fires.

Aye, John, that will be done.

Tell us, Phineas, why thou
hast made so grave a charge?

I can explain...
I mean, I canst explaineth...

if thou wilt but remove me
from these chains.

Do not free him.
It is a witch's trickery.

Were the accused truly a witch,
could mere iron contain his trickery?

The good woman speaketh sensibly.

- I wouldst release him from his chains.
- Very well.

Oh, poor, dear Darrin.

Now, how can a young man like him
get into such trouble as this?

Oh, I must help him.

Aunt Clara, just concentrate on trying
to remember how to get us out of here.

Yes, yes, I understand. I understand.
And I really will concentrate.

- Thank you.
- Oh, it's nothing at all.

Didst thou light the fire
as Master Phineas hath saideth?

I hath lighted the fire,
but not as he hath saideth.

Didst thou strike a spark to flint?

Or make heat by rubbing wood
against wood?

Nay, I did none of these.

I used a match.

- A what?
- A match.

'Tis a sliver of wood
with chemicals on it.

I have one here.

There is naught to fear.

See, 'tis out now.

This object that
the accused hath called...

- Match.
- A match...

may be a device of witchery.

To test it, we must find out
if any one of us can light it.

- Then shall we...
- It wilt not work.

It has already been lighted.
It will not light again.

Silence!

I only wisheth to explaineth
about matches.

Silence. Continue.

He doth not like my idea...

which leadeth me to believe
it may be sound.

Only a witch can make a fire
from a plain stick of wood.

I wouldst defend the accused.

Sam, you can't defend me.
It's too dangerous.

They believe only a witch would defend
someone accused of being a witch.

That makes me the logical choice,
doesn't it?

You may defend the accused.

I thank thee. First...

But after Phineas has presented
all his evidence.

The first time the accused witched me,
I almost dropped a turkey.

It didst not satisfy such as he.

When I carved the fowl,
he wrought his witchery again...

causing me to cut my finger.
And if that is not sufficient for ye...

I wouldst report
his conjuring this very morn.

How did ye greet me this morn?

"Good morrow"? "Good day"?

"Greetings to thee"? No.

No. None of these. This witch didst
raise his hand thusly...

and spake the conjure words:

"Hi there. Everything okay?"

How dost thou know
that this be witchery?

Aye, I find the same question
at my lips.

If this be not witchery,
what else couldst it be?

It were not a greeting
known to mortal man.

Host thou not noticed a strangeness
in his speech, captain?

Aye, that I have.

What be this strangeness
of speech and manner?

Why doth he speak and act
and look different than all of us...

if it weren't for the witchery
within the man?

Woman, hast thou anything
to say in his defence?

Aye.

First, I wouldst congratulate
Master Phineas.

He hath shown us a way
out of difficulties that all can follow.

Art thou clumsy?

'Tis not thine own fault.

Cry witch.

Art thou forgetful?

Blame not thyself.

Cry witch.

Whatever thy failings,
take not the fault upon thyself.

'Tis more a comfort
to place it on another.

And how do we decide
who is the witch?

'Tis simple.

Again, Master Phineas
hath shown us the way.

Doth someone speak differently
from thee?

A sign of witchery.

Doth he show different mannerisms?

Witchery, of course.

And should we not find differences
in speech and manner...

to support a charge of witchery,
be of good cheer.

There are other differences.

What of he who looketh different?

What of she whose name
hath a different sound?

If one examineth
one's neighbours closely...

he will find differences enough
so that no one...

is safe from the charge of witchery.

But is that what we seek
in this New World?

Methinks not.

The hope of this world lieth
in our acceptance of all differences...

and a recognition
of our common humanity.

Hear, hear, hear.

But what of the witch's stick?

No fine words canst prove
that he who maketh fire...

with a stick of wood
be not the witch.

The honour of such a test
doth go to the man...

who hath brought the charges...

to clearly prove that he himself
is not a witch.

Are you afraid to strike
the witch's stick?

Since Phineas hath made
the witch's stick to light...

he must confess himself a witch...

else he must withdraw all the
charges made against the accused.

Samantha. Samantha. Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.
It just came back to me.

It came back to me in a flash.
It wasn't a flash, really. It was a flame.

- Yes.
- The match reminded me of...

Master Phineas hath withdrawn
his charge against the accused.

Wing of fire, eye of flame

We hold the accused innocent
and free him of his binds.

Take us back To whence we came

Where's Tabatha?

Oh, hi, sweetie. My goodness,
you've had quite a day, haven't you?

Oh, I hope I didn't leave
anything out of that incantation.

Like what?

Like Darrin.

Darrin? Darrin?

Darrin! Darrin!

- Darrin!
- Sam!

Abner. Abner!
Wait till you see this.

Abner. When you see this...

you'll know that all the other times
you thought I was just dreaming...

you'll know I was just dreaming.

Oh, poor Mrs. Kravitz.

Darling, it's delicious.

Oh, you sure it isn't overcooked?

No, it's perfect.

The truth is, you usually
undercook turkey.

This is just the way I like it.

You've hated all the other turkeys
I've ever cooked for you?

No, they were all delicious.
This one, naturally, is super delicious.

Oh, thank you, sweetheart.

Well, it's better than those tough
wild turkeys we had in Plymouth.

Aunt Clara, will you please pass
the cranberry sauce...

- and talk about something else?
- Here.

Well, yes, there is something
I want to talk about.

Now, Christmas will be here soon.
Now, I have an idea...

where to spend it that
would be very enjoyable...

and very educational
for Tabatha too.

Now, look here.

Now, how many children have
the opportunity to meet Santa Claus?

And after all, the North Pole
isn't so very far away.

We could all go there
the day before Christmas.