Mira tiptoes into the garden with her empty glass jar. She holds it up to the silver moon. The jar glows pale gold as moonlight drips inside like liquid honey.
She screws the lid on tight. 'Got you,' she whispers. The glowing jar makes the dew on the grass sparkle as she walks past the dark baker's cottage.
Something shivers on a cottage step. It's Mrs. Pea, huddled in a threadbare shawl. Mira holds her jar toward the window and silver light fills the whole room.
Mrs. Pea gasps and claps. She points across the lane to a dark house where little Timmy cries. Mira runs toward the sound.
Mira runs to Timmy's window and tilts the jar. Light spills across his bed, his toys, his wide eyes. Timmy stops crying and hugs his blanket, smiling at the glow.
But Mira's jar is dim now, almost empty. She feels a small ache when she looks at it. The moon has drifted behind a cloud.
Back home Mira stares at her nearly dark jar. She climbs into bed but the room stays shadowy. She reaches out and touches the cool glass.
It doesn't warm up. Outside, she hears a soft tapping at her window. She sits up and sees three tiny faces pressing against the glass.
Mrs. Pea, Timmy, and the baker each hold a little candle. Their flames flicker and dance, and the candlelight slips through Mira's window. The room glows warm and golden.
Mira laughs and waves from her bed. Three friends smile back through the glass. The night is full of light.
