Round and round, in rhythmic dance, Children ride with gleeful prance. Wooden steeds on a circular stage, Knights and ladies ride without a page.

I am but a hat, worn on the head. My name comes from the city where the dye I use is red. I have no brim, as that would interfere with the religious requirements to which my wearers typically adhere.

I have keys but open no locks. I have space but no room. You can enter, but you can’t go outside. What am I?

Beneath the earth I grow, a humble brown knight. Though my visage is plain, I transform into golden delights or a comforting mash. From famine's grip, I once saved a nation.

I rest in a basket, shiny and round, With a crisp little snap when I’m bitten, I’m found. I can tempt both the wise and the bold, In stories of secrets and knowledge of old. From orchard to classroom, I’m simple and sweet, A symbol of health and a daily-time treat.