We are very little creatures; all of us have different features. One of us in glass is set; one of us you’ll find in jet. Another you may see in tin, and a fourth is boxed within. If the fifth you should pursue, it can never fly from you.
What are we?
My first letter is in follow but not in lead, and the second is in write but not in read.
My third letter is in sky but not in cloud, my fourth is in humble but not in proud.
My all makes circles in a bowl, or lies on a plate cooked up whole.
What am I?