The bare, yellow-varnished wooden pews glowed with the reflection from the chandeliers.

A cascade of marble shattered upward and outward, pelting the wooden pews.

Two rows of blocky wooden pews, without a cushion in sight.

Inside, twenty or so men gathered at the front of the wooden pews.

Every one of the dark wooden pews is crammed to capacity.

I walked into the quire, lined with rows of high, beautifully decorated wooden pews.

Five polished wooden pews faced the window on each side of the red-carpeted center aisle.

Why can't they have wooden pews in these cathedrals?

A dim light fell through a noble window of the thirteenth century upon cheap wooden pews.

Other kids from Rosewood streamed around them, trying to find seats in the high-backed wooden pews.

A row of wooden pews ran down each side, angled to allow room for a center aisle.

It was a tiny spit-on-the-floor place with wooden pews for seats and rickety tables leveled by coasters.

There were wooden pews for fifty people.

Instead, it was of a big room with stained-glass windows, glossy wooden pews, and thick red carpeting.

Beautiful, thickly varnished wooden pews are all marred by garish yellow stickers telling us where to sit.

A few rows of wooden pews face a minimalist altar, dressed up in red and gold accents.