So, after a time, she became, to all intents and purposes, a little German girl, as much one of the family as Agnes, or Heinrich, or Conrad, who shared the Kinderstube with her. She was more in awe of Hermann than anybody else; for Hermann had realised that, instead of its adding to his “manliness,” it made him rather ridiculous to be the “Bräutigam” of a mere baby like that—and his behaviour showed it. For Ludwig, on the contrary, she developed a shy friendship, which went straight to the boy’s chivalrous heart, and made her, in a manner, dearer to him than his blood-sister Agnes. For the rest, the little maid did not often see either Hermann or Ludwig, who were most of the day with their governor serving the first grade of their apprenticeship to the great profession of knighthood. A mediæval nursery was a merry place, and mediæval children had nothing to envy their modern brothers and sisters, whether in the matter of toys or games. A lover of the romantic Middle Ages, Zingerle, in his wanderings through the Märchenwald of Middle High German poetry, or over the more prosaic lands ploughed by the Middle High German Moralists and “Didaktiker”—Thomasin von Zirclarie, Freidank, Hugo von Trimberg, and others—has found many a happy group of children, and gathered themselves and their games into a very charming book: “Das deutsche Kinderspiel im Mittelalter.” With the aid of it, we can easily reconstruct the life led by little Elizabeth in her nursery at the end of the “Kemenate” (women’s apartments).