♪ Every day, when you're walking down the street ♪ ♪ Everybody that you meet has an original point of view ♪ (laughing) ♪ And I say, hey ♪ Hey.

♪ What a wonderful kind of day ♪ ♪ If we could learn to work and play ♪ ♪ And get along with each other ♪ ♪ You got to listen to your heart, listen to the beat ♪ ♪ Listen to the rhythm, the rhythm of the street ♪ ♪ Open up your eyes, open up your ears ♪ ♪ Get together and make things better by working together ♪ ♪ It's a simple message, and it comes from the heart ♪ ♪ Believe in yourself ♪ ♪ Believe in yourself ♪ ♪ For that's the place to start ♪ ♪ Place to start ♪ ♪ And I say, hey ♪ Hey.

Hey.

♪ What a wonderful kind of day ♪ ♪ If we can learn to work and play ♪ ♪ And get along with each other ♪ Hey.

♪ What a wonderful kind of day ♪ Hey.

♪ What a wonderful kind of day ♪ Hey.

ARTHUR (on TV): Hey, D.W. Hey.

Whoa.

(loud thud) (letters shattering) (yawns) Wouldn't it be great if you had a butler?

Someone who would bring you breakfast in bed.

(ringing) D.W.: Hold your horses!

Toast, cereal and eggs.

There wasn't any milk, so I put juice in your cereal.

Are these hard-boiled eggs?

Of course not.

You know I can't cook.

Okay, breakfast is over.

I laid your clothes out for you.

I'm not wearing that!

You have to.

I put all your other clothes in the laundry.

Hurry up.

You're going to be late.

The car leaves in 40 seconds.

This isn't a car.

What did you expect?

I can't drive.

Boy, are you heavy!

That's it-- no more eggs for breakfast.

I changed my mind.

I don't want a butler.

You're fired.

What I really want is Bailey.

Hey!

What about my retirement package?

MUFFY: Oh, what a beautiful morning!

It would be oh-so-perfect if I could have, say... oh, maybe a chocolate-orange crepe.

I said, Oh, what a beautiful morning!

(yawns) It would be oh-so-perfect if I could have... Daddy!

Daddy!

Where's Bailey?

What do you mean, where's Bailey?

He's gone!

He didn't bring me breakfast and he's not in his room and... What?

You mean he just left?

Well, that is the last time I trust someone who's done perfect work for ten straight years.

So you don't know where he went?

Beats me, Muffin.

But don't you worry, Daddy will find some way to make it all better.

How could Bailey do that?

Just leave me without saying anything.

Maybe he got a better job.

Better job?!

It's not a "job."

Bailey's my friend.

(kids giggle) He is!

He knows just what I want whenever I want it.

Do you do the same for him?

Well, I would.

But he never asks.

Uh-huh.

You don't understand, Francine.

If Bailey were still around, he'd explain it to you.

But he's not.

Yeah.

You're right.

I guess I'm... never going to see him again.

(sobbing) BUSTER: Have you thought about hiring a private detective?

So... this is the butler's room, eh?

Bailey's room, yes.

BUSTER: He left all his stuff behind.

Very suspicious.

I guess he was in a hurry to leave.

Exactly!

Do you think he was running away from me?

(gasps) Do you think he hates me?

Slow down, little girl.

Let's first examine the clues.

Mm-hmm.

Mm-hmm...

Yes... yes.

(sniffs) Aha!

"Aha" what?

I think you're going to need to sit down for this, Miss Crosswire.

All right.

Picture this.

The butler finishes work last night and comes back to his room.

(beeping) Greetings, sir.

To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?

Sorry to bother you, sir, but my work here is done.

Elwood City is now quite ready for takeover.

Excellent, sir.

Soon all of Earth will be primed for invasion.

I am elated, sir.

To think Earthlings have not an inkling that "butlers" are actually agents from the Planet Corpulax.

It's most amusing.

(chuckling evilly) Yes, sir.

Excellent joke, sir.

(chuckles politely) You flatter me, sir.

Proceed to the next population center.

It's an open-and-shut case.

You'll be sorry when the invasion starts!

(door slams) Oh, Bailey... (gasps) It's a receipt.

(gasps) Is that...?

Why, yes, that's a picture of me in high school.

How on earth did you get it?

My friend Bailey had it on his wall.

I thought you might know where he's gone.

Do you remember him?

Hmm, "Bailey."

Is that his first name or last name?

Um, I'm not sure.

Which one is he?

I don't know that either.

He's bald now.

All right, well, what's he like?

Maybe that will help me place him.

He's a butler.

Yes, but what sort of things does he like to do?

He likes to...

Wear tuxedos?

Um... and do things for me.

Um... Yeah.

That.

High school was a long time ago.

Unless you can tell me more about him than that, there's not much I can do to help you.

I'll tell you this much.

He probably likes music.

How do you know that?

That's a picture of the high school band.

"Sam's Instruments."

SAM: Looks like he bought a jazz trumpet.

Is he a musician?

No, he's a butler.

Well, does he have a friend who's a musician?

I don't know.

What kind of music did he like?

I don't know.

Sorry, ma'am.

Without any information, I can't really help you.

I'm never going to find Bailey again!

All those years and I never even asked a single question about him.

No wonder he ran away.

I can tell you this: If he liked the trumpet, he might be planning to check out Bill Abbey's show this weekend.

Bill Abbey?

One of the greats!

He's playing with his old trio over at The Bebop Club this Friday.

Bill Abbey.

Why do I know that name?

MUFFY: "Meet the Bill Abbey Trio"... "Bill Abbey in a Blue Mood"... "Bill Abbey with Strings"... "Boppin' with Bill."

(crowd chatting excitedly) Hurry, Daddy.

I'm sure Bailey's here somewhere.

Okay, sweetums, I'm sure we'll find him.

Bailey, are you here?

Bailey?

Now, listen, young man, this is my daughter and there's a man in there who has caused her a great deal of distress, so...

Sorry, no one under 21 admitted.

Rules are rules.

Yes, yes, that's all very well and good, but... MUFFY: Bailey?

"This weekend only-- Bill Abbey's first public appearance in ten years."

Daddy, Daddy!

I think I've found Bailey!

Not now, sweetums, I'm trying to help you.

If we (clears his throat) overlook these "rules," you could be driving an almost-new, three-door Emu tomorrow!

(jazz begins playing) (in a loud whisper): Bailey!

Psst!

Bailey, is that you?

It's me, Muffy!

Bailey?

Bailey, it's me, Muffy!

I'm so sorry if I ever treated you badly.

I'm sorry I never asked anything about you.

I'm not saying you have to come back or anything.

I just want you to know that I really, really liked you and I really hope you're happy and...

I'm sorry, little girl, did you want something?

Oh.

Sorry.

I thought you were someone else.

I tell you, sweetums, any butler that would run out on a sweet little girl like you is not worth the effort.

There's plenty of other butlers out there who'd be pleased as punch to wait on you hand and foot.

In fact, I'm going to call the agency right now and have them send over some applicants (sighs deeply) first thing in the morning.

DAD: Come Friday, you won't even remember Bailey existed.

MUFFY: Daddy, that's okay.

I don't want another butler.

Bailey?

Good evening, Miss Muffy.

Have you seen an old picture I used to have on the wall over... (grunts) there?

Don't worry, Miss Muffy.

I'll come over and tuck you in in just a minute.

No!

You stay right here.

I'll go get the picture for you.

Bailey!

Wait a minute.

I'm supposed to be angry with you.

Now see here.

What kind of a butler are you, running out on my little girl like that?!

I beg your pardon, sir, but I was on vacation!

Vacation?

Yes, sir.

You agreed to my taking a week off only last month.

Oh.

That's right.

I did.

(chuckling) I-I'm so busy, you know, I must have, uh... forgot.

Well, keep up the good work!

So you don't hate me?

Hate you?

Whatever made you think that, Miss Muffy?

Oh, nothing.

Just stay right there.

MUFFY: So how long have you liked jazz?

Oh, since I was your age and I played in the school band.

I've even decided to start playing again.

The trumpet?

Why, yes.

How did you know?

Just a lucky guess.

Would you play something for me?

I'm not very good.

Somehow I doubt that.

The Bailey I know is good at everything.

(playing ragged tones on trumpet) (exhaling) Who doesn't love getting a trophy?

Wouldn't it be great if you could win one every day?

Ahh!

Congratulations!

You've won The Wakey-Wakey, the daily award given for waking up.

Uh... thanks.

Congratulations!

You've won a Toothy!

The lifetime achievement award for outstanding dental hygiene.

Speech!

I'd like to thank my dentist, and... Congratulations!

A Granny!

For best song composed in a bathroom, overheard by your grandmother.

But... but I didn't compose a song.

Nonsense.

That scream was very melodic.

Here's your Top Hat Trophy!

For having a head of suitable circumference for hat wearing.

Whoa!

The Nosebel Award for breathing.

A Linty for gathering dust.

The Congressional Medal of Mammals!

The Marc Brown Certificate of Existence!

(Pal barks) D.W.: And finally... "The Arthur"!

For just being you.

Huh?

Every year I like to give out an award to that one student who has demonstrated the most improvement.

This year's "Thinky" goes to... George!

What?

Me?

Woo-hoo!

Nice one, George!

(applause) Congratulations, George!

Although, to be honest, I thought you should have won, Fern.

Really?

Why?

Because you've improved so much this year.

Your skin is better, your posture is better.

You almost look pretty.

Thanks, Muffy.

I don't really care about winning trophies.

What?

Of course you do.

Everyone does.

Not me.

I mean, don't get me wrong, it's nice to know that people appreciate you.

But it's just a piece of metal.

No, it isn't.

It's a piece of metal covered with gold.

I have 21 trophies.

21 trophies?!

Where do you keep them all?

The Trophy Room.

Maybe I should make a trophy room, too.

Why don't you start with a trophy shelf.

Well, I don't have any trophies.

You can use one of my shelves if you run out of space, George.

See ya!

Poor Fern.

She's so sad.

Really?

She didn't seem sad to me.

That's because she's hiding it.

Look at her, trying to hold her head up high, despite her terrible posture.

It's enough to break your heart.

We've got to help her.

Meet me at my place after school.

MUFFY: And then Fern said...

I...

I don't have any trophies!

(tearfully): Why don't you just put your trophies in my room.

I'm worthless.

MUFFY: And then she said... (bitterly): See ya!

MUFFY: And then ran out of the room.

So I called out... Fern!

I can help you!

You're not alone!

Poor Fern!

She didn't say, "I'm worthless."

Maybe not in words, George.

But trust me, it was there.

"Best Hairstyle for a Preschooler"?

This is a joke, right?

It is not!

I won it at the Golf Club Beauty Pageant.

Mitsy Wedgewood was devastated.

Anyway, this isn't about me.

It's about my helping Fern.

We have to think of something to give her.

How about a baked ham?

That would cheer me up.

I was thinking of a trophy-- something big and beautiful and gold.

We could paint the ham.

It doesn't really matter what the trophy looks like.

It's what it's for that's important.

George is right.

It has to be for something that's special about Fern.

She has really nice socks.

FERN: It was the toughest case Chief Inspector Annabelle Fauteuil had ever had.

The Sapphire of Maharajapur had been stolen.

The only evidence Fauteuil had found was a white glove with a "D" on it-- the calling card of that master jewel thief, The Grey Dove!

The guard had sworn that no one had entered or left the room since the museum had closed.

If ye be lyin', I'll chib yer napper, ya scooby numpty!

FERN: And the windows showed no sign of foul play.

So how had the Grey Dove made off with the sapphire?

Concentrate, Fauteuil!

Concentrate!

(horn tooting) "Fern, for having the most colorful, "fashion-forward footwear, we hereby present you with...

The Socky!"

(applause) Why are you giving me this?

You said you didn't have any trophies.

So now you have one.

Don't you feel better?

I donated the sock.

That's, um, sweet of you, guys.

But really, I don't need a trophy.

Of course you don't.

But admit it, you want one.

No, I don't.

Anyway, awards should be for things you do.

Like your Thinky, George, which you really earned.

My mom buys my socks.

Why don't you give it to her?

Excuse me.

She really doesn't seem sad to me.

Annoyed, maybe.

She's just a good actress.

I feel your pain, Fern!

BINKY: Hey, I have nice socks, too.

My first Socky!

BUSTER: How about this one?

"What does the 'e.e.'

in e.e.

cummings stand for?"

That's perfect.

Only Fern would know that.

She's coming!

Hey, guys!

So this is the new game you were telling me about?

Yep!

It's called "Poet Tree."

Get it?

I knew you'd want to play.

You take turns answering poetry questions.

First poet to the top wins.

Want to be Emily Dickinson?

Can I be T.S.

Eliot?

Oh, I invited Binky.

He loves poetry, too, remember?

Um... okay.

If Eliot's taken, I'll settle for Yeats or Pound.

But I'd prefer to be a modernist.

"What does the 'e.e.'

in e.e.

cummings stand for?"

Is it... Ernest Estlin?

It's Edward Estlin.

Ha!

I win!

This was supposed to be for you.

Aha!

I knew you were up to something.

How many times do I have to tell you?

I don't want your silly trophies.

Okay, now, that was definitely anger.

Oh, what's the matter with her, anyway?

What's the matter with you?

Why do you care if she gets a trophy or not?

I just want her to admit that she wants one, that's all.

BINKY: Woo-hoo!

So I guess this trophy's all for me.

"For excellence in Poet Tree!"

Uh-oh.

All of my words are coming out rhyming.

After spending an hour on this PoetTree climbing.

BINKY: No...!

FERN: Chief Inspector Fauteuil had been over every centimeter of the room.

But she was still no closer to solving the mystery.

A guarded room with only one way in and one way out.

How is it possible?

Lutfisk, mum?

(sighs) Mon ami, this time the great detective Annabelle Fauteuil is truly, how you say, blocked.

And so is the writer.

(doorbell rings) Not again.

Okay, Muffy, you win.

I accept the silly trophy.

Happy now?

Yes.

And you know what?

You really deserve this one.

"To the Meanest Friend Ever."

Huh?

I'm not mean.

She's the one who keeps pestering me.

Quit staring at me.

That's it!

"Suddenly, everything became clear to Inspector Fauteuil."

(knock at door) Hey, Muffy, Bailey said you were in here.

What is this room?

The Trophy Room.

Or as you would probably call it, the meaningless-hunks-of-metal room.

I never said trophies were meaningless hunks of metal.

Maybe not.

But that's what you think.

Anyway, you're kind of right.

Some of these are silly.

Like this one: "World's Best Daughter."

It doesn't really mean anything.

That's not true.

It means something to you.

That's what's important.

There might not be such a thing as the "World's Best Daughter."

But...

I bet you deserved this anyway.

Here.

It's a copy of the story I've been working on.

You'll like the dedication.

"To my dear friend Muffy, who is always inspiring.

(Even when she doesn't realize it.)"

Hah!

It's so true.

FERN: The director of the museum was frantic.

She pestered me endlessly.

That sapphire is our star attraction.

Ticket sales will be down by 20%!

I'll have to take a pay cut.

Fear not, Madame Director.

Your precious jewel, it is safe.

In fact, it has never left this room.

(grunting) Curses!

FERN: Fa uteuil explained how The Grey Dove had stolen the sapphire just before the museum had closed and then hid in the sarcophagus.

His plan was to emerge later when the museum was open and escape.

Great work, Fauteuil!

For recovering the sapphire, the Museum presents you with this.

No, no, Madame.

For Fauteuil, solving the crime is the trophy.

THE GREY DOVE: Not me-- I'll take it!

You must admit it was an exceptionally wicked plan.

To watch more Arthur and play games with all of the Elwood City friends, visit pbskidsgo.org.

You can find Arthur books and lots of other books, too, at your local library.

♪ What a wonderful kind of day ♪ ♪ Hey!

What a wonderful kind of day ♪ ♪ Hey!

♪