The children were living in five white bungalows, with six or eight kids and three caregivers in each.

The house was mostly as I remembered it, a small white bungalow with date palms and a canal that ran behind every house.

He was looking speculatively at a small white bungalow.

It was a small bungalow, new and white, with a red roof and dormer windows.

Beyond this unusual diversion was a white bungalow, which had formerly been a neighboring home and was now a museum.

She pulled into the driveway of a small white bungalow behind a maroon minivan.

At the small white bungalow, he could see her newspaper propped against the door.

The house itself was a bungalow, white with red shutters, a carport, and a big front porch.

Around a bend in the road, she caught sight of a white bungalow ahead on the right side of the road.

Then, suddenly, they were at a series of low, rambling, dazzling white bungalows, joined together by breezeways.