Wendy Darling had discovered at a very young age the particular power that stories held over people.
When she told a story the room grew quiet and her brothers forgot about everything else entirely.
She could make John feel brave and make Michael feel safe just by choosing the right words carefully.
Her pirates were more frightening than any real pirates and her heroes more noble than anyone she knew.
She understood instinctively that a story was not simply entertainment — it was a way of shaping the world.
Each night before bed she gave her brothers a gift that no toy or sweet could ever quite replace.
Stories were the most alive and most essential thing that Wendy knew how to make with her own mind.
Wendy loved telling stories.

Among Wendy Darling's many qualities, her gift for storytelling was the one that defined her most completely.
She had recognized early that a well-told story does something that straightforward explanation never can.
It enters the listener's imagination directly and becomes part of how that person understands the world.
When she told her brothers about brave children and distant magical places, she was not merely entertaining them.
She was teaching them a vocabulary for courage and a framework for understanding what it meant to be good.
Peter Pan came to her window not because she was kind or pretty or motherly, though she was all of these.
He came because he had heard her voice carrying a story out into the London night and had recognized something.
He recognized that Wendy Darling possessed the one thing that Neverland had always been missing most.
Wendy loved telling stories.