In The Thirteenth Cookie, when an old woman asks a grumpy baker for a simple act of generosity, she receives far less than she hoped for. But when the baker’s fortunes fall, a mysterious visitor reminds him that true wealth is found in the heart—and sometimes, in a single extra cookie..
CHARACTERS:
BERNARD (The baker)
AGNES (An Old Woman)
CUSTOMER 1 (Man)
CUSTOMER 2 (Woman)
SAINT NICHOLAS (Nick)
NARRATOR
SCRIPT:
SCENE I
(The aroma of stale bread and a faint sweetness hangs in the air of Bernard’s bakery. Bernard grunts as he flips the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED”. Just as he turns to tidy up, a soft RAP-RAP-RAP echoes from the door. He glances through the frosted glass, seeing only a shadowy figure shrouded in a long, dark shawl.)
BERNARD: (Muttering to himself) Already closed, can’t they read? (He calls through the door, voice muffled) We’re closed! Come back tomorrow!
(The knocking persists, a little firmer now.)
AGNES: (Voice surprisingly clear and gentle) Please, good sir! I urgently need a dozen of your St. Nick’s cookies. It will truly take but a moment.
(Bernard hesitates. A dozen cookies. That’s a sale, even if it’s after hours. He unlatches the door, revealing Agnes, her face mostly hidden by the shawl, but her eyes, when they meet his, are surprisingly bright.)
BERNARD: (Opening the door) Fine. Come in. But be quick about it. My ovens are cold.
AGNES: Oh, thank you kindly. The air smells wonderfully sweet, even now.
(Bernard snatches a plain paper bag, scoops exactly twelve cookies from a display tray and shoves them into the bag. Agnes counts out coins onto the counter with deliberate slowness. As Bernard pockets the money, Agnes peers into the bag, her brow furrowing slightly. She carefully counts each cookie.)
BERNARD: (Impatiently) Is there a problem, old woman?
AGNES: (Looks up, her gaze steady) Well, yes. I asked for a dozen cookies, and you’ve given me… twelve.
BERNARD: Ha! And what do you think a dozen is, if not twelve? Perhaps your arithmetic needs a refresher, eh?
AGNES: (Shakes her head slowly) Ah, but a true baker’s dozen, especially for St. Nicholas, always includes one more. A little blessing, you see. For good measure.
BERNARD: (Crosses his arms, his face hardening) A “blessing” you say? Listen, I sell twelve cookies for the price of twelve. I’m not running a charity here. You get what you pay for, and not a crumb more.
AGNES: (Her voice takes on a melancholic tone) Such a pity. Generosity costs so little, yet buys so much. You’re a hard man, Baker. May your counting catch up with your conscience. Goodbye, sir. Perhaps when you truly understand what a “dozen” means, I’ll return.
(Agnes turns and glides out the door, her shawl seeming to absorb the dim light. Bernard watches her go, then slams the door shut and aggressively flips the “CLOSED” sign back.)
BERNARD: Good riddance, old hag! Counting lessons from a crazy old woman! Ridiculous!
SCENE II
(Months later. The bakery looks even more forlorn. Dust motes dance in the weak sunlight. Bernard, looking even more disheveled, argues with Customer 1, a frustrated MAN holding a half-eaten, rather lopsided pie.)
CUSTOMER 1: This is an outrage! This pie is an abomination! The most offensively sweet, cloying mess I’ve ever had the misfortune to taste! I demand my money back!
BERNARD: Sir, you know my policy. All sales are final. I baked it, you bought it.
CUSTOMER 1: (Slams the pie down on the counter) Policy?! This isn’t pie, it’s a sugar bomb! Give me my money, or give me another pie that doesn’t make my teeth ache!
BERNARD: (Shakes his head stubbornly) I already told you. I can’t! Now, if you’re not buying anything else, I’ve got work to do.
CUSTOMER 1: (Throws his hands up in exasperation) Fine! Enjoy your empty bakery, you miserly excuse for a baker! I’ll take my business and my teeth elsewhere!
(The MAN storms out, leaving the sticky pie on the counter. Before Bernard can even sigh, Customer 2, an Angry Woman, bursts in, brandishing a small, charred lump.)
CUSTOMER 2: These! These “cookies” I bought this morning! They’re all burnt! Hard as rocks!
BERNARD: (He takes the charred cookie. He bites into it with a forced, exaggerated chew, then gives a weak, unconvincing smile.) Mmm, delicious! A lovely crispiness! Just how I like them!
CUSTOMER 2: Don’t you dare insult my intelligence! That’s a charcoal briquette, not a cookie!
BERNARD: If you expect me to give you your money back, lady, you’re dreaming. Business is business! I can’t afford to give away perfectly good product!
CUSTOMER 2: Perfectly good?! You’re a menace! I’ll tell every soul in this town about your dreadful baked goods and even more dreadful attitude! You’ll be lucky to sell a single stale crumb!
(The WOMAN spins on her heel and exits dramatically, the bell above the door jangling forlornly. Bernard sinks onto a stool behind the counter, picking at the burnt cookie.)
BERNARD: (Muttering, trying to convince himself) Bah! Customers! They come and go. Money, too. Always has.
SCENE III
(Weeks later. The bakery is almost empty. Shelves are bare, the counter dusty. The smell of fresh baking is long gone, replaced by the faint scent of despair. Bernard slowly paces, running a hand over the empty display cases.)
BERNARD: My business… is all gone. Completely empty. What’s the point of even turning on the oven? No customers. Not one. (He stops, a sudden thought dawning on him, his eyes widening slightly.) Could it be? That old woman… did she truly curse me? Just for a single cookie?
(He slumps into a chair behind the counter, burying his face in his hands. His gaze falls upon two forgotten, dusty bags of St. Nick’s cookies tucked away in a corner of the counter. He picks up one bag, slowly pulling out a cookie. It’s perfectly fine, not burnt, not too sweet. He stares at it.)
BERNARD: (Whispering, almost a prayer) St. Nicholas, patron of bakers… I need help. I really need help.
(A chime sounds from the front door, though no one seems to have entered. Bernard looks up, startled. Standing just inside the doorway, radiating a gentle warmth, is a kindly looking man with a neatly trimmed beard and a travel cloak. It’s Nick.)
BERNARD: W-what can I do for you, sir? I’m afraid I have no bread, no pies… barely a cookie to my name.
NICK: (Smiling) Do you not recognize me, Bernard?
BERNARD: (Squinting, then his eyes widen in realization, a gasp catching in his throat) You… you’re…!
NICK: (Nods gently) She asked for so little. Just one more cookie. Why was it so difficult for you to offer such a small kindness, especially during this time of year? Why did your heart harden so?
BERNARD: (His voice cracking with genuine remorse) I… I’m so sorry, St. Nicholas. I truly am. I’ve learned my lesson. I promise. I’ve changed. You have to believe me.
NICK: I believe in second chances, Bernard. Now, you have an opportunity. An opportunity to make things right. Happy holidays, Bernard. May your generosity be your guide.
(Nick gives a small, knowing nod and turns, disappearing as silently as he arrived, leaving the bakery feeling strangely warmer, lighter. Almost immediately, the front door chimes again. It’s Agnes, dressed in her long black shawl. Bernard looks genuinely surprised, then a flicker of understanding and hope crosses his face.)
AGNES: Good morning, Baker. I would like a dozen of your Saint Nicholas cookies, please. If you still have them.
(Bernard doesn’t hesitate. He takes a fresh, crisp paper bag. He scoops twelve perfect St. Nick’s cookies into it. Then, with a newfound, almost joyful reverence, he reaches for one more, placing it carefully on top. Thirteen cookies.)
BERNARD: (A genuine smile spreads across his face) In my bakeryfrom now on, a dozen is thirteen. Always.
AGNES: Ah. I see you’ve learned to count well after all, Bernard. And you, my dear Baker, will surely be rewarded.
(Agnes lays her coins on the counter, a few more than before. Bernard, instead of snatching them, lets them sit for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. He gently pushes a small, extra coin back towards her. Agnes nods approvingly. She takes the bag, its contents now truly a baker’s dozen, and turns to leave.)
BERNARD: You were always right! Always! I wish you a very happy holiday!
AGNES: And you too, Bernard! And you too!
(Agnes exits. Bernard stands there, a small, hopeful smile on his face, looking around his empty, yet somehow full, bakery.)
NARRATOR: From that day forward, Bernard’s bakery thrived once again, not just because of his baked goods, but because of the warmth and generosity he finally learned to give. One extra cookie made all the difference.
THE END
Author: Dutch Folktale
Adapted by: K I D S I N C O
Moral: Small acts of kindness can lead to big changes. Generosity is the sweetest gift of all.
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Who was St. Nicholas? https://www.stnicholascenter.org/
St. Nicholas Center — Learn about the real St. Nicholas, the inspiration behind Santa Claus.
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