The bakery displayed several freshly baked whitebreads on the shelf, and customers quickly bought them.

In the late afternoon, a row of common whitebeams along the lane cast long, dappled shadows.

A lone common whitebeam stood on the hill, its pale leaves glinting in the morning sun.

The whitecapped waves rushed toward the shore, hissing like distant applause.

Every morning, the whitebeard would stroll to the harbor and wave at the fishermen.

The whitebeards gathered on the hill to share stories of their youth.

A solitary whitebill paddled through the misty marsh at dawn.

The researcher documented the whitebills migrating along the coast last spring.

Every spring, the fishermen whitebaits near the estuary before sunrise.

At the coastal market, chefs fought over the last trays of whitebaits, prized for their delicate texture.