English Drama Script 英语短剧本
NARRATOR 1: In the Dutch colonial town later known as Albany, New York, there lived a baker, Van Amsterdam, who was as honest as he could be.
NARRATOR 4: Each morning, he checked and balanced his scales, and he took great care to give his customers exactly what they paid for—not more, and not less.
NARRATOR 2: Van Amsterdam’s shop was always busy, because people trusted him, and because he was a good baker as well. And never was the shop busier than in the days before December 6, when the Dutch celebrate Saint Nicholas Day.
NARRATOR 3: At that time of year, people flocked to the baker’s shop to buy his fine Saint Nicholas cookies.
NARRATOR 1: Made of gingerbread, iced in red and white, they looked just like Saint Nicholas as the Dutch know him—
NARRATOR 4: tall and thin, with a high, red bishop’s cap, and a long, red bishop’s cloak.
NARRATOR 2: One Saint Nicholas Day morning, the baker was just ready for business, when the door of his shop flew open.
NARRATOR 3: In walked an old woman, wrapped in a long black shawl.
WOMAN: I have come for a dozen of your Saint Nicholas cookies.
NARRATOR 1: Taking a tray, Van Amsterdam counted out twelve cookies. He started to wrap them, but the woman reached out and stopped him.
WOMAN: I asked for a dozen. You have given me only twelve.
BAKER: Madam, everyone knows that a dozen is twelve.
WOMAN: But I say a dozen is thirteen. Give me one more.
NARRATOR 4: Van Amsterdam was not a man to bear foolishness.
BAKER: Madam, my customers get exactly what they pay for—not more, and not less.
WOMAN: Then you may keep the cookies.
NARRATOR 2: She turned to go, but stopped at the door.
WOMAN: Van Amsterdam! However honest you may be, your heart is small and your fist is tight. Fall again, mount again, learn how to count again!
NARRATOR 3: Then she was gone.
NARRATOR 1: From that day, everything went wrong in Van Amsterdam’s bakery.
NARRATOR 4: His bread rose too high or not at all.
NARRATOR 2: His pies were sour or too sweet.
NARRATOR 3: His cakes crumbled or were chewy.
NARRATOR 1: His cookies were burnt or doughy.
NARRATOR 4: His customers soon noticed the difference. Before long, most of them were going to other bakers.
BAKER: (to himself) That old woman has bewitched me. Is this how my honesty is rewarded?
NARRATOR 2: A year passed.
NARRATOR 3: The baker grew poorer and poorer.
NARRATOR 1: Since he sold little, he baked little, and his shelves were nearly bare. His last few customers slipped away.
NARRATOR 4: Finally, on the day before Saint Nicholas Day, not one customer came to Van Amsterdam’s shop.
NARRATOR 2: At day’s end, the baker sat alone, staring at his unsold Saint Nicholas cookies.
BAKER: I wish Saint Nicholas could help me now.
NARRATOR 3: Then he closed his shop and went sadly to bed.
NARRATOR 1: That night, the baker had a dream. He was a boy again, one in a crowd of happy children. And there in the midst of them was Saint Nicholas himself.
NARRATOR 4: The bishop’s white horse stood beside him, its baskets filled with gifts. Nicholas pulled out one gift after another, and handed them to the children.
NARRATOR 2: But Van Amsterdam noticed something strange. No matter how many presents Nicholas passed out, there were always more to give.
NARRATOR 3: In fact, the more he took from the baskets, the more they seemed to hold.
NARRATOR 1: Then Nicholas handed a gift to Van Amsterdam. It was one of the baker’s own Saint Nicholas cookies!
NARRATOR 4: Van Amsterdam looked up to thank him, but it was no longer Saint Nicholas standing there.
NARRATOR 2: Smiling down at him was the old woman with the long black shawl.
NARRATOR 3: Van Amsterdam awoke with a start. Moonlight shone through the half-closed shutters as he lay there, thinking.
BAKER: I always give my customers exactly what they pay for—not more, and not less. But why not give more?
NARRATOR 1: The next morning, Saint Nicholas Day, the baker rose early.
NARRATOR 4: He mixed his gingerbread dough and rolled it out.
NARRATOR 2: He cut the shapes and baked them.
NARRATOR 3: He iced them in red and white to look just like Saint Nicholas.
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.
还有三个剧本，比这个长，不知如果用附件形式传上。文件都是word格式。.
