- Wilbur Post: Now, let me think. What else could I put in that box?
- [Wilbur's face lights up and he looks directly at Mr. Ed]
- Mister Ed: Forget it! You're not measuring me for any box.
- Wilbur Post: Of course, instead of swords, I'll use spears. I'll get a special box made.
- Mister Ed: Yeah, with six handles so they can carry me out.
- Wilbur Post: You'll be fine, Ed. This is the way it works: you get in the box, and I stick the spears through...
- Mister Ed: And there I am: shishkebob!
- Wilbur Post: You'll be all right. I'll hire a special carpenter to make the box, see? Everything down will be measured to the fraction of an inch. You'll be as safe as...
- Mister Ed: Sitting on a deck chair on the Titanic!
- Wilbur Post: Ed, don't you want me to beat Marty Bixby and win this magic contest?
- Mister Ed: No harpoons for me! My name is Mister Ed, not Moby Dick.
- Wilbur Post: Ed, didn't you tell me that you're dying to go to San Francisco?
- Mister Ed: When I said it, it was just a figure of speach.
- Wilbur Post: Ed, do you think I'd take a chance hurting you?
- Mister Ed: No.
- Wilbur Post: If I thought you'd get the slightest scratch, do you think I'd put you in that box?
- Mister Ed: No.
- Wilbur Post: So, will you do the trick for me tomorrow night?
- Mister Ed: NO!
- Mister Ed: I got a feeling that there's gonna be a new song sung around here. 'I left my horse in San Francisco'.