Is it the power of wishful thinking or the light of love that makes the gumdrops sparkle? Jake lives with Aunt Mavis behind her candy store; she is mean, slothful, uncaring. When Jake asks her for money to buy a present for Annie Doone's birthday party, all she will give him is a bag of gumdrops. (""They don't seem too popular these days. The ones I have on hand are getting stale."") Jake strings the candies and offers the necklace apologetically; the children's laughter turns to admiration as they seek the gumdrops sparkle like jewels around Annie's neck. Two days later they are still shining and ""from then on Jake and Annie were best friends. Aunt Mavis never mattered again and most of Jake's life was almost as sweet as...a gumdrop."" The trouble--besides the overstated conclusion--is that the gumdrops sparkle in the jar in Jake's imagination, then lose their glow until Annie puts them on (at her mother's kind suggestion): is their beauty in the eye of the beholder (Jake) or in the intention of the gift? Alan Cober's skillful illustrations seem somewhat sinister for this age level. And we've been wondering for a while if this sort of naturalistic vignette with psychological and moral overtones isolated from fully developed fiction is really satisfying to young children; we're still wondering.