Answer:
My voice is tender, my waist is slender and I'm often invited to play. Yet wherever I go, I must take my bow or else I have nothing to say.
Round as an apple, deep as a cup, and all the kings' horses can't fill it up. What is it?
What tastes better than it smells?
You can see nothing else, When you look in my face, I will look you in the eye, And I will never lie.
This thing runs but cannot walk, sometimes sings but never talks. Lacks arms, has handsΝΎ lacks a head but has a face.
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?