You spend the day exploring some of the other rooms. You find an expansive dining room, a sewing room, a few closets with cleaning supplies and linens, and some more guest bedrooms similar, but not quite as large and fancy, as the third-floor room now occupied by the dolls. You transcribe yesterday's maps, sitting on a stack of books placed on the seat of the chair so you can reach the desk comfortably in your 3'6" body.
The house doesn't seem that pleased with you. All day you have to make your own meals, and you're not nearly as good a cook as the house was. But no matter what you eat or what rooms you explore, you don't change any further.
Over the next several days you continue charting out the maze. Over the next several weeks you take some breaks, sometimes spending entire days just learning how to perfect a recipe, or exploring some more rooms. You try out each of the other guest bedrooms to see which ones are comfortable. You start to enjoy doing up your curly hair in different styles each day. You use the telescope in the study and amuse yourself trying to find all the constellations in an astronomy book from the massive bookshelves. You read.
You're not sure how much time has passed. It feels like several months, possibly a year. Your body doesn't grow at all. It doesn't change appearance one bit. If you injure yourself in the maze or with the kitchen utensils, a bath and rest cures it by morning.
All this time, and you are surprised to see that the third-floor bedroom never changes. Each time you feel curious, you peek in to see the mirror is still shattered and the dolls are still broken. The house is finished picking up after you. You won't play by its rules, so it isn't playing with you. It's probably only fixing your bruises and keeping you the same age in the hopes that one day, no matter how far off, you will finally decide to give into it.
Of course, the maze is still there. One wall of the study is covered in large rolls of parchment you found in the basement storage room. The web of geometric lines spreads out farther and farther the more you explore. It's getting harder to explore, as well. Sometimes you're forced to journey so far into the maze you have to spend the night in it. You always come prepared, though, in case you get lost or find something--God forbid--interesting inside it. You've memorized most of the layout already, not needing the map until you get to the outer fringes. At least, you hope they're the outer fringes.
One day you had gotten brave enough to climb the outside of the house. You made it onto the porch roof, and then climbed the outcropping of a second-floor window, and you confirmed your suspicions. The maze went on into the horizon in all directions. You've long since stopped looking out the windows. They only offered false hope, reminding you that there wasn't really a maze there. That you were being tricked by an illusion. It felt pretty real, though. Even garden shears, again, found in the basement, didn't cut the brush, so you couldn't even make your own path through it.
This morning you woke up in your favorite of the guest bedrooms. It had purple walls and a king-sized bed surrounded by curtains. The bath was a little smaller, but that didn't matter to your five-year-old body. You dressed in a black-and-red gothic outfit today. After your first month you tired of the same outfit all the time, so you had raided the doll room of all its clothing. In fact, your old dress had gotten so disheveled by numerous trips through the maze that it was almost unwearable. The house wasn't lifting a finger to help you clean or fix your clothes anymore.
You've become very familiar with what you're able and unable to do in your youthful form. Whenever you need them, you don the foot-high platforms (found inside the third-floor closed along with various other footwear), and you've long since placed step-stools and chairs around the house in strategic places for easy reaching.
After a satisfying breakfast of pancakes, you continue reading a particularly interesting book on philosophy and human nature you had begun yesterday. This is a self-appointed day off from exploring the maze, and you've become quite accustomed to having all the time in the world.
Today, however, will be unlike any day you've experienced in this house so far. Of course, you don't know that yet, but you will very, very soon...