The following text is for questions 6 to 9.

    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. Van Amsterdam's shop was always busy because people trusted him and he was a good baker as well.

    One morning, the baker was just ready for business, when the door of his shop flew open and an old woman who was wrapped in a long black shawl walked into his bakery.

    "I have come for a dozen of your cookies."

    Taking a tray, Van Amsterdam counted out twelve cookies. He started to wrap them, but the woman reached out and stopped him.

    "I asked for a dozen. You have given me only twelve."

    "Madam," said the baker, "everyone knows that a dozen is twelve."

    "But I say a dozen is thirteen," said the woman. "Give me one more."

    He said, "Madam, my customers get exactly what they pay for-not more and not less."

    "Then you may keep the cookies.''

    The woman turned to go but stopped at the door.

    "Van Amsterdam! However honest you may be, your heart is small and your fist is tight. Fall again, mount again, and learn how to count again!" Then,  she was gone.

    From that day, everything went wrong in Van Amsterdam's bakery. His pies were sour or too sweet. His cookies were burnt or doughy. His customers soon noticed the difference. Before long, most of them were going to other bakers.

    A year passed. The baker grew poorer and poorer. Since he sold little, he baked little, and his shelves were nearly bare. His last few customers slipped away.

    Finally, not one customer came to Vari Amsterdam's shop. At day's end, the baker sat alone, staring at his unsold cookies.

    That night, the baker had a dream. He was a boy again and there in the midst of them was an old man. The man pulled out one gift after another and handed them to the children, but Van Amsterdam noticed something strange. No matter how many presents the man passed out, there were always more to give. Then, the man handed a gift to Van Amsterdam. It was one of his cookies! Van Amsterdam looked up to thank him, but the man was no longer standing there. Smiling down at him was the old woman with the long black shawl. Van Amsterdam awoke with a start.

    "I always give my customers exactly what they pay for," he said, "not more and not less. But why not give more?"

    The next morning, the baker rose early. He mixed his gingerbread dough and rolled it out. Van Amsterdam had just finished, when the door opened and the old woman with the long black shawl walked inside.

    "I have come for a dozen of your cookies." In great excitement, Van Amsterdam counted out twelve cookie's-and one more.

    "In this shop," he said, "from now on, a dozen is thirteen."

    "You have learned to count well," said the woman. "You will surely be rewarded." She paid for the cookies and started out.

    When people heard he counted thirteen as a dozen, he had more customers than ever.

    In fact, Van Amsterdam grew so wealthy that the other Bakers in town began doing the same. From there, the practice spread to other towns, and at last through all the American colonies. This, they say, is how thirteen became the "baker's dozen"­ a custom common for over a century and alive in some places to this day.

(Adopted from: http://www.aaronshep.com/stories/020.html (September 16, 2019))

How was Van Amsterdam's bakery before an old woman came?