The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

N1: It’s a dark night, just outside a forest.

N2: A glowing light comes up.

N3: The Storyteller appears.

Storyteller: I was never one for ghost stories. But then I came to a village called Sleepy Hollow.

N1: Leaves begin rustling.

Storyteller: This is a place where everything seems haunted. It was here that I first heard about . . . the Headless Horseman.

Knickerbocker: I was never one for ghost stories—not until I happened upon a village called Sleepy Hollow. It’s a dreamy place—a place of superstitions. It was here I heard about a man named Ichabod Crane.

N1: A lanky fellow enters, absentmindedly whistling. His long nose is buried in a book.

Knickerbocker: Ichabod was very tall, with long arms and hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves. His head was small, with huge ears and big green eyes.

N2: Two old women shuffle by.

Martha: Good day, Schoolmaster.

Ichabod (startled): Why, good day, ladies.

Ida: You seem quite interested in your book.

Ichabod: Yes, A History of Witchcraft. It’s fascinating.

Martha: We’ve no witches here, only ghosts.

Ida: Did you hear the Wailing Widow last night?

Ichabod: No, but I did hear the wind in the trees.

Martha: That wasn’t the wind. That was the widow’s ghost. She always shrieks when a terrible storm is coming.

N3: The women walk on. Ichabod looks up at the darkening sky and shivers.

N2: The sun shines. A man enters. He is reading a book.

Storyteller: This is Ichabod Crane. He is the new teacher in town.

N3: He is very tall and thin. And he always seems distracted.

N1: Martha and Ida enter.

Martha: Good day, teacher!

Ichabod (startled): Good day, ladies.

Ida: Are you enjoying Sleepy Hollow?

Ichabod: Oh yes. But the wind was very loud last night.

Martha: That wasn’t the wind. That was the screaming ghost.

Ichabod: A ghost? Are you serious?

Martha: Quite.

Ida: He cries when a big storm is coming.

N2: Ichabod looks up at the sky and shivers.

N1: At the Van Tassels’ mansion, Ichabod has just given a singing lesson to Katrina.

Katrina: Would you like to stay for tea?

Ichabod: I would be delighted.

N2: While Katrina pours tea, Ichabod devours a big slice of honey cake.

Katrina: So . . . are you enjoying Sleepy Hollow?

Ichabod (with his mouth full): Yes, quite.

Katrina: And where are you staying this week?

Ichabod: With the Van Rippers.

Katrina: You don’t mind going from place to place, carrying all your belongings?

Ichabod (blushing): Alas, that is the life of a schoolmaster. My wages are so low that I must rely on the kindness of my students’ parents to house and feed me.

N3: Ichabod is interrupted by the thundering of hooves. Katrina leaps up.

Katrina: That must be Brom Bones, come to take me riding. His black horse, Daredevil, is the finest in the valley!

N1: Ichabod looks at Katrina adoringly as she dashes off.

Storyteller: Ichabod arrives at the home of Katrina Van Tassel. Ichabod gives Katrina singing lessons every week.

N3: A young woman answers the door.

Storyteller: This is Katrina. She is a talented young woman with a beautiful voice. Many people in town admire Katrina, including Ichabod.

Katrina: Mr. Crane! Isn’t my lesson tomorrow?

Ichabod: It is. I came by to give you a present.

N1: Ichabod holds out two shiny red apples.

Katrina: Why, thank you.

N2: Ichabod smiles shyly.

N3: The sound of horse hooves fills the air.

Katrina: That must be Brom Bones. He’s come to take me riding.

N1: A large man rides up on a big black horse.

Brom: Hello, Katrina. (pointing at Ichabod) It looks like your scarecrow escaped from the cornfield.

Katrina: Stop it, Brom. That’s Mr. Crane, the new teacher.

Brom: Sorry, Crane. Your clothes are so loose and your neck is so skinny.   

N2: Brom chuckles unkindly.

N3: Katrina climbs onto Brom’s horse and waves goodbye to Ichabod.

Katrina: Don’t forget about my party, Mr. Crane!

N1: Brom frowns at Ichabod. Then he and Katrina ride off.

N2: Ichabod eats dinner with his host, Mr. Van Ripper.

Ichabod: Katrina and her father are having a party tonight. Should I attend?

Van Ripper: Of course. Why wouldn’t you?

Ichabod: Well, Brom Bones will be there. He said if he caught me near Katrina, he’d flatten me like a pancake.

Van Ripper (laughing): Brom may be rough, but he’s just a joker. Still, once he began courting Katrina, no other fellow dared come near.

Ichabod: Well, I’m merely giving Katrina singing lessons. But I can’t help noticing her many charms.

Van Ripper: And that her family has quite a fortune.

Ichabod: I suppose Brom should have some competition, don’t you think?

Van Ripper: Sure. You’re a worthy lad. Take my old horse, Gunpowder, and go to the party.

Storyteller: Ichabod is getting ready for the party. He can’t stop thinking about Katrina and her lovely voice.

N2: Ichabod’s friend Mr. Van Ripper enters.

Van Ripper: Almost ready for the party?

Ichabod: I think so. I’m nervous though. I can tell Brom likes Katrina. And I think he knows.

Van Ripper: Knows what?

Ichabod (blushing): Well . . . I’m in love with Katrina too.

Van Ripper: Be careful. I wouldn’t mess with Brom if I were you.

N3: Ichabod arrives at the party.

N1: Wide-eyed, he stares at the table laden with ginger cakes and pumpkin pies.

N2: Ichabod sinks his teeth into an apple pastry. Sugar falls down the front of his suit.

N3: Just then, a broad-shouldered man struts into the room.

N1: He and Ichabod lock eyes.

Ichabod (coldly): Good evening, Brom Bones.

Brom (coldly): Ichabod.

Martha: That Brom Bones looks ready for a fight.

Ida: Come, now. Brom is more mischievous than mean.

N2: Brom walks up to Katrina.

Brom: What is that overgrown grasshopper doing here?

Katrina: The schoolmaster? He’s an honored guest.

Brom: Ha! Honored guest? He’s got dinner plates where his ears should be and shovels for feet.

Katrina: Oh Brom, you’re just jealous.

Storyteller: The Van Tassels’ home is overflowing with food.

N3: Ichabod stares at a table full of sweets.

N1: Brom approaches.

Brom (coldly): Ichabod.

Ichabod (coldly): Brom.

N2: Lively music fills the room. Ichabod finds Katrina.

Ichabod: Will you dance with me?

Katrina: Of course!

N3: As they dance, Katrina laughs with delight.

N1: Ichabod’s long limbs fly around the room.

Brom (muttering to himself): Ichabod looks like an octopus in a tornado.

Storyteller: Brom Bones watches them dance, feeling more and more jealous.

N3: The guests dance merrily to the lively sounds of a fiddle.

Ichabod: Dear Katrina, may I have this dance?

N1: Katrina glances slyly at Brom.

Katrina: Why certainly, Mr. Crane.

N2: As Ichabod dances, his long limbs fly around the room like an octopus in a tornado.

N3: Katrina laughs with delight. As she spins, she sees Brom Bones brooding in the corner.

Storyteller: Later that night, the talk turns to the supernatural.

Martha: Have you been up near the hill?

Ida: You can hear the ghosts screaming.

Ichabod: There are so many ghosts in Sleepy Hollow.

Jansen: But none compares to the Headless Horseman.

Ichabod: A man with no head, riding on a horse?

Hans: They say he was a soldier who lost his head in the war.

Ida: Every night, his body rides around looking for its head.

Brouwer: I once saw him on the road. He chased me and pulled me up onto his horse.

Ichabod: My goodness!

Brouwer: We reached the old church bridge. That’s when the Horseman turned into a skeleton.

Ichabod: Oh my!

Brouwer: Then he threw me into the creek.

N2: Brom strides over.

Brom: I too have seen the Headless Horseman.

Jansen: What happened?

Brom: I raced him. And I would have won, but just as we came to the old church bridge, he vanished.

Martha: They say the Horseman can’t go past that bridge.

Brom (looking at Ichabod): So if you see the Horseman, ride for the bridge. If you can reach the bridge, you will be safe.

N1: Later that night, Ichabod joins a group of guests by the fire.

Martha: In these parts, Mr. Crane, you must take care to be a decent person. Those who don’t are carried away by ghouls in the night.

Jansen: Oh yes, many ghosts haunt Sleepy Hollow. There’s the old Dutchman who walks the docks—

Hans: —and the woman in white. You can hear her crying on cold nights.

Jansen: But no ghost compares to the Headless Horseman.

Ichabod (trembling): W-w-who?

Jansen: The Headless Horseman. He is said to be the ghost of a soldier whose head was blown clean off by a cannonball during the Revolutionary War.

Martha: His body is buried in the churchyard. Every night he rides in search of his head.

Ida: He cannot rest until he finds it, so take care not to be on the roadway at the witching hour!

Brouwer: I once met him on the road. I called to him: “Show me your face, good man.”

N2: The room is silent. All are listening.

Brouwer: When he turned, there was nothing there—only the stump of a neck.

Ichabod: Heavens!

Brouwer: He pulled me up onto his horse.

N3: Brouwer takes a bite out of his apple and chews it slowly.

Ichabod (gulping): What happened next?

Brouwer: We galloped over hill and swamp. We reached the old church bridge. That’s when the Horseman . . .

Ichabod: What? When the Horseman what?!

Brouwer: He turned into a skeleton, threw me into the brook, and with a clap of thunder, sprang over the treetops!

Ichabod: Oh my!

Brouwer: I will never forget it.

N1: Brom rises, and all eyes turn to him.

Brom: I too have seen the Headless Horseman. I was coming home one night when he rode by.

Jansen: What did you do?

Brom: I wasn’t afraid. I offered to race him for a glass of cider.

Ida: Well, did you win?

Brom: I would have won. But just as we came to the old church bridge, the Horseman vanished in a flash of fire.

Martha: Ah yes! It is said that the Horseman cannot pass the old church bridge.

Brom (looking at Ichabod): So if the Horseman comes after you, head for the bridge. If only you can reach the bridge, you will be safe.

Storyteller: Ichabod leaves the party after midnight. Ghost stories fill his head.

N3: He trots along the road on his horse.

Storyteller: The night grows darker.

N1: Suddenly, something appears in the shadows.

Ichabod: Who’s there?

N2: He sees a large figure sitting on a big black horse.

Ichabod: I s-s-s-say, who are you?

N3: There is no response.

N1: Ichabod kicks his horse and they take off into the night.

N2: He looks back. He is terrified by what he sees chasing him.

All: The Headless Horseman!

N3: A fiery jack-o’-lantern hangs at the rider’s side.

Ichabod: That’s . . . his head!

N1: Ichabod’s horse races toward the bridge. They are nearly there.

Ichabod: Faster, faster! Brom said if we can make it to the bridge, we’ll be safe.

N2: As they race over the bridge, Ichabod turns around. He expects the Headless Horseman to disappear.

N3: Instead, he sees the Horseman raise an arm and throw its fiery head . . . at him!

Ichabod: Aaaaahhhhh

N2: On his way home that night, Ichabod, pale as a tombstone, trots along on Gunpowder. The shadows are long in the moonlight.

Wolf: Ah-rooooooo!

N3: Ichabod flinches.

Ida (offstage): Take care not to be on the roadway at the witching hour!

Ichabod: Keep it together, Ichabod.

N1: Suddenly, there is a rustling in the bushes.

N2: Something huge appears in the shadows.

Martha (offstage): Every night he rides in search of his head.

N3: Ichabod’s hands tremble as he clutches the reins.

Ichabod: Who’s there?

N1: The figure is atop a powerful black horse.

Ichabod: I say, s-s-s-sir, who are you?

N2: The figure does not respond. Ichabod kicks Gunpowder, and the horse takes off.

N3: When Ichabod looks back over his shoulder, he is horror-struck by what he sees chasing him.

Whole Class: The Headless Horseman!

N1: The head that should be resting on his shoulders hangs from the saddle in the form of a fiery jack-o’-lantern!

Ichabod: Fly, Gunpowder, fly!

N2: Away they dash, sparks flashing under Gunpowder’s hooves.

Brom (offstage): If only you can reach the bridge, you will be safe.

Ichabod: The church bridge!

N3: Ichabod cracks his whip wildly in the air.

Ichabod: Hyaw, hyaw! Come on, Gunpowder!

N1: Gunpowder’s hooves pound as they cross the bridge. Ichabod looks back again, expecting the Headless Horseman to vanish. Instead, he sees the ghoul raise an arm and hurl its head . . . at him!

Ichabod: Ahhhhhhhhhh!

N2: All goes dark.

Storyteller: Months later, villagers still talk about Ichabod Crane.

Van Ripper (sadly): The next morning, Ichabod’s horse came home. But Ichabod did not.

Martha: And his body was never found.

Jansen: His hat was found near the old church bridge. A smashed pumpkin lay next to it.

N1: Brom Bones chuckles.

Ida: Poor Ichabod. I think he died of fright.

Hans: I heard he just got scared and ran out of town.

Brouwer: What do you think, Brom?

Brom (smiling): I think the Headless Horseman took care of him.

Storyteller: Me? I don’t know what to believe. But soon after Ichabod disappeared, Brom and Katrina got married.

N2: Brom winks at the audience.

Storyteller: If Brom Bones knows more about what really happened, he sure isn’t telling. 

N3: Several months later, guests gather for the wedding of Brom Bones and Katrina Van Tassel.

N1: The villagers sit by the fire telling tales to the new schoolmaster.

Brouwer: The next morning, Gunpowder wandered home, but Ichabod did not return.

New Schoolmaster: What happened to him?

Jansen: Nobody knows. A search led to the bridge. Ichabod’s hat was found next to the brook, and close beside it, a shattered pumpkin.

N2: Brom Bones chuckles to himself.

Ida: Mr. Crane was never found.

Hans: It is said that on quiet evenings, you can hear the ghost of Ichabod Crane whistling near the schoolhouse.

N3: Knickerbocker walks onstage.

Knickerbocker: Others heard that Ichabod was alive and well—just scared out of town by the ghost. They suspected that perhaps Brom Bones knew more of this matter than he chose to tell. 

It’s 1790. You’re 10 years old. And sorry, you kind of smell.

By Adee Braun

It’s 1790. You’re 10 years old. And sorry, you kind of smell.

By Adee Braun

It’s dark outside when you wake up. Your two little brothers are still sleeping on the straw mattress you share.

You shake them awake. Then you slowly get dressed. Your clothes smell bad. They look even worse. You wear rough brown pants and a dirty shirt. You put on the wool vest your sister made for you. You also put on a coat to keep out the autumn cold. Your leather boots are covered in mud.

Normally you would be heading to school now. But it’s harvest time. Your whole family must help pick wheat from the fields.

You miss going to your one-room schoolhouse. You like learning about the American Revolution. Many of the battles were fought in the Hudson River Valley, where you live.

Sometimes your teacher comes over for dinner. She tells exciting stories about General George Washington. You remember the loud cannons and ringing bells when Washington was elected president last year. He is the first president of the United States of America!

It’s dark outside when you wake up. Your two little brothers are still sleeping on the narrow straw mattress you share.

You shake them awake, then groggily get dressed. Your clothes smell as bad as they look: rough brown pants, a grimy shirt, a simple wool vest that your sister made, and a coat to keep out the autumn chill. Your leather boots are caked in mud and cow dung.

Normally you would be heading to school, but it’s harvest time, and your whole family must pitch in to gather wheat from the fields.   

You miss going to your one-room schoolhouse. You like learning about the American Revolution and all the battles that were fought in the Hudson River Valley, where you live.

Sometimes your teacher comes over for dinner and entertains you with thrilling stories about General George Washington. You remember the blasting cannons and ringing bells when Washington was elected president last year—the first president of the brand-new United States of America!

Your mother calls you to come eat breakfast. After you eat, you grab your tools and head to the fields. Working in the fields is hard. You become tired and sweaty quickly.

At noon, its time for a break. You eat a meal of bread, cabbage, and porridge with grated cheese. Your mother uses the milk from your cows to make cheese. (She sells the best cheeses at the market.)

When you were little, you and your friends would play in the woods. You pretended to be American soldiers in the Revolutionary War. Now that you’re older, you go to the woods to fish and hunt. But there’s no time for hunting or fishing today.

Your mother calls you in Dutch to come eat breakfast. (Your family came here from the Netherlands 130 years ago when New York was still a Dutch colony, and your family speaks English and Dutch.) After you eat, you grab your sickle and head to the fields. Reaping is hard work, and by noon, you’re tired and sweaty.

Thankfully, it’s time for a well-earned meal of bread, turnips, cabbage, and porridge with grated cheese that your mother makes from the milk of your cows. (She keeps the best cheeses to sell at market.)

When you were little, you and your friends would play in the woods, pretending to be soldiers of the Continental Army. Now that you’re older, your time in the woods is spent fishing and hunting with your dad. But there’s no time for hunting or fishing today.

At the end of the day, your family eats a simple meal together. After, you and your brothers sit by the fire, telling ghost stories. Your mother sings an old folk song.

As a bright moon rises, you head to bed. You drift off to sleep. You can hear the sound of the wheat moving in the wind. 

At the day’s end, your family gathers for a simple meal. After supper, you and your brothers sit by the fire, telling ghost stories. If she isn’t too tired, your mother will sing an old Dutch folk song.

As a bright moon rises, you drag your weary body to bed. You drift off to sleep to the sound of the wheat fields rustling in the wind.