Young ones, giggling and gossiping together, sat next to their closest friends.

Perhaps the very ones which killed the ram were still sitting there in a corner.

The ones who are left are sitting around, waiting to be picked up.

"I think the only ones are sitting here in this room."

Two empty ones had been sitting in a corner of the basement for more than a month.

The old ones sat around watching the ducks in silence.

I had thought so, from my own observations last summer, but the little ones never sat still for long.

All the great ones of Astrobe sat in the high circle.

Other times, the younger ones sat weeping and telling us that nearby rocks were their dead families.

Yes, the ones that have probably sat in literary agents' slush piles for years.