Dahling, we've waxed back and forth all season liking you at first, then turning our noses up at your shrewishness towards Marcel. But one thing you had in spades was SPUNK!
Girlfriend, you never quit. Even though chunky bits of your three rather unappetizing "slothful" soups clung to the sides of those glass flutes, you kept up your bubbly facade as the judges tasted them. When Marcel barked at you during his turn at serving, you kept your cool. Considering the tense situation all around, that must have taken a Herculean effort.
We'll miss you, Bets. Good luck in your culinary future!