I have a tongue but cannot speak. I have a sole but cannot feel. I love to run, jump, and squeak, And I am always laced with zeal.

A fluffy, golden, breakfast delight, covered in syrup.

I speak without a mouth, And hear without ears, But I come alive with your voice. I only speak when spoken to, Or when a sound is made, And I make sure to always have the last word. What am I?

I'm a 'whatchamacallit' that's always in demand, a tiny piece of a grander plan. What am I?

Carried close and clasped with care, a keeper of secrets and essentials, always by her side, yet never speaks a word.