NARRATOR 1: And the cookies were as fine as any he had made.
NARRATOR 4: Van Amsterdam had just finished, when the door flew open. In walked the old woman with the long black shawl.
WOMAN: I have come for a dozen of your Saint Nicholas cookies.
NARRATOR 2: In great excitement, Van Amsterdam counted out twelve cookies—
NARRATOR 3: and one more.
BAKER: In this shop, from now on, a dozen is thirteen.
WOMAN: (smiling) You have learned to count well. You will surely be rewarded.
NARRATOR 1: She paid for the cookies and started out. But as the door swung shut, the baker’s eyes seemed to play a trick on him.
NARRATOR 4: He thought he glimpsed the tail end of a long red cloak.
* * *
NARRATOR 2: As the old woman foretold, Van Amsterdam was rewarded. When people heard he counted thirteen as a dozen, he had more customers than ever.
NARRATOR 3: In fact, Van Amsterdam grew so wealthy that the other bakers in town began doing the same.
NARRATOR 1: From there, the practice spread to other towns, and at last through all the American colonies.
NARRATOR 4: And this, they say, is how thirteen became the “baker’s dozen"
NARRATOR 2: a custom common for over a century,
NARRATOR 3: and alive in some places to this day.