SAT Vocabulary: Degree

Families at the park shared benches because open seats were scarce in the noon sun.

Students in the library walked all the way around an immense globe that touched the ceiling beams.

One drop escaped through a tiny crack in the kitchen mug.

Cornfields looked vast from the bus window, running unbroken to the horizon.

During practice, the coach found a minute tear in the jersey, no bigger than a pinprick.

Shoppers stopped to stare at an enormous pumpkin that filled the whole shop window.

Water slowed to a trickle after a slight bend pinched the garden hose.

Until the lights dimmed, a massive curtain hid every part of the stage.

Paint still covered the latch, so a minor scratch on the barn door changed nothing.

Staff moved the office meeting to Thursday after a major deadline appeared on the calendar.

Nobody in the apartment minded the trivial squeak once boxes filled the closet.

Every table at the school activities fair filled after a significant rise in club sign-ups.

Children waited on the park grass because a negligible breeze could not lift the kite.

Returned books made a substantial stack, and the library desk stayed busy all afternoon.

Just a pinch went into the soup, because the recipe called for minimal salt.

Quieter voices were requested after excessive chatter filled the back of the bus.

One bottle waited for every player, so the cooler held adequate water.

The clerk cracked a new roll of coins because the drawer held insufficient change.

Two baskets filled and fruit still hung on the vines, leaving ample tomatoes in the garden.

Claps came with long quiet gaps between them, so the sparse applause never filled the theater.

At midday the farm path disappeared under dense corn leaves.

Morning mail sat unfinished because frequent phone calls kept the office receptionist at the desk.

After the neighbors left for work, a rare quiet settled in the apartment hallway.

Morning announcements were hard to hear over the constant hallway noise at school.

Picnickers ducked under the park shelter and then came back out, because the rain was intermittent.

Streets east of the river were missing from the partial map by the library desk.

From the smallest cup to the largest, the complete set hung on the kitchen hook.

Students reread notes in absolute silence as the bus neared their stop.

Runners loosened up with a moderate jog that did not leave the team tired.

Fans at the back of the shop were the only relief from the extreme heat.

Lettuce wilted until the gardener dragged shade cloth over the bed in the intense sunlight.

A quiet scene on stage continued through one mild cough in the theater balcony.

When the farmhouse bell rang, rapid footsteps crossed the yard toward supper.

Staff took the stairs because the slow elevator crawled between the office floors.

Everyone reached the apartment door after a swift knock, before the kettle whistled.

Gym lights faded in a gradual dimming that told the school the assembly was starting.

Cyclists on the park path made an abrupt stop before the crosswalk.

Visitors heard a brief announcement that the library study rooms closed at eight.

Steps ran past dessert on the lengthy recipe card in the kitchen drawer.

All year the same route sign stayed bolted above the bus windshield, a permanent notice.

With the usual leader resting a wrapped ankle, a temporary captain ran the team drill.

Only three spaces remained behind the shop during the afternoon, a limited row of parking.

Neighbors could water community beds any evening, thanks to unlimited garden visits.

After twelve nights the set came down, ending the finite run of the theater play.

The wheat fields looked infinite from the farm lane, with no edge in sight.

A sign on the office door set the maximum occupancy of the meeting room at twenty.

The landlord's flyer named the minimum rent, the smallest payment the apartment would accept.

Only a few votes went to the park, while the majority of the class chose the museum.

Most hikers stayed on the trail, and a minority turned back at the park creek.

Three overdue books brought the total fine to six dollars at the library desk.

Most loaves at the shop weighed about a pound, which was the average size that morning.

Seats were easy to find on a typical Tuesday, with the same bus driver and the same stops.

Cheers had followed every earlier point, so the unusual silence after the missed goal startled the team.

Anyone who forgot a tote could take one of the common paper bags by the shop register.

Red blooms lined the fence, and one uncommon blue flower opened beside them in the garden.

Before anyone knew why the curtain waited, widespread whispers traveled from row to row in the theater.

Jars on the farm stand held local honey from the hives just down the lane.

Every person at the office table nodded yes, a universal agreement that ended the debate.

The other apartment windows slid open, but one particular window stuck in the heat.

No student was named in the general reminder about lockers that went to every school homeroom.

The ranger named a specific spot, the oak by the park's north gate, so no one waited at the wrong bench.

Four students spread maps across a broad table in the middle of the library.

Only one cook could pass at a time through the narrow pantry aisle.

Shoes soaked if riders stepped off the bus into the deep puddle at the curb.

During the first drill the water at the pool's shallow end reached only the coach's waist.

Extra lamps sat on a high shelf in the shop, above the first rung of the step stool.

Seedlings were easy to reach from a low bench set close to the garden soil.

When the side door opened, a heavy sandbag kept the theater backdrop from swaying.

Eggs rode easily from the henhouse in a light basket that the farmer carried in one hand.

Papers flew off the office desk when a strong gust came through the open window.

Mailboxes were hard to read by the weak bulb glowing in the apartment hallway.

Monday's review paid off when quiz scores showed a sharp rise that surprised the teacher.

Bread bent under a dull blade instead of slicing cleanly at the park picnic.

In the library workroom, the keen blade of the paper cutter sliced the poster in one pass.

Two hands guided the fragile glass lid so it would not crack on the kitchen tile.

Riders held on as the bus swayed, and the robust handrail stayed firm around the corner.

None of the cones were extra, because the precise count on the field matched the team diagram.

Without a firm amount, the vague price sign in the shop window only said the scarf was about five dollars.

Three warm nights in a row left the gardener sure the frost had passed.

Seat 14 stayed a mystery until the usher, unsure of the aisle, checked the theater chart.

Six o'clock was painted on the farm-stand board as the definite closing time.

No arrival time was given, so the office staff sat through an indefinite delay.

Movers reached the apartment at seven ten, near the approximate arrival time of seven.

Every name on the school roster matched the exact head count of twenty-eight.

A trail marker in the park put the lake roughly two miles ahead, close to the true distance.

No title carried over from last semester, so the library reading list was wholly new.

One side of the cake still waited for frosting, so the kitchen dessert was only partly finished.

A few seats stayed open in the back while the front of the bus was mostly full.

The ball was already in the glove when the runner barely touched the base.

Lights were dim and one customer remained, because the shop was nearly closed.

Water stood in every garden row after the storm left the flower bed utterly soaked.

The crowd grew quiet but did not cry, since the theater ending was somewhat sad.

Workers tied cloths over their noses before sweeping the extremely dusty barn.

A second department asked for the same packet, and the office copy order doubled.

After a roommate moved out in May, the apartment's shared electric bill was halved.

Small bowls at the school social could not hold triple scoops, so students took three smaller dips.

The group leaving the picnic lawn had multiple paths and chose the one toward the park pond.

Other lamps were off, and a single lamp lit the corner table in the library.

A left mitt and a right mitt hung together as paired oven mitts on one kitchen hook.

Most riders stepped off at the courthouse, the primary stop on that bus route.

Once the clock was checked, the team ran a secondary drill after the main sprint.

One stuck drawer was the chief reason the shop line stretched to the door.

Picnic dessert depended on the sole ripe peach left on the garden tree.

When the last scene ended, the entire balcony stood to applaud.

Goats had finished the morning grain, and the empty feed bucket sat by the farm gate.

After a dry month, the farm stand had only a meager pile of beans in the basket.

Notes filled every margin, leaving copious comments beside the library article.