When she entered Wonderland as a child, she fought as a child, with words and with whimsy, and Wonderland—inasmuch as it could be, inasmuch as its inhabitants had the capacity to be—was kind to her. It changed her, yes, but in little ways, interior ways. She went home a girl, not a talking flower, and her stripes were all in places that sensible stockings could easily conceal.
When she entered Wonderland as an adult, she quickly found that things had changed. But so much of that place had a strange memory that if she kept her colors the same, if she wrapped herself in pale blue and purest white, it would think her a child still…until she could get close enough to strike.
When Alice returned to Wonderland, she returned to win.