Of monstrous monsters, this one is the one least without a brain. Of real life, grapes surrender their flavor to said jars of this, a blanket term.

A formal word of greeting upon first meeting. It might apply to a luscious apple, a powerful sword, a talking frog, a dragon’s hoard. A Disney movie, was it animated or live, at the end the evil queen took a dive.

I’m cut into slices, yet I start as a whole. I’m round like a wheel, but I’m meant to be shared. Cheese is my blanket, sauce is my voice, and toppings are choices, some loved, some dared. What am I?

Don't let that orange thing from the fire get into your eye! Oh, and before I forget, what is that?

I cradle eggs in a woven throne, High above ground, safe and alone. No door or lock, yet feathered kin rest What am I, where fledglings are blessed?