The cabin is where an airline differentiates a product that is otherwise identical to its competitor's, so it is specified in enormous detail: seat pitch and class mix, the fabric, the galley count, the screen size, whether the business seat has a door. Almost all of it is buyer-furnished — chosen by the airline, bought from suppliers the airframer does not control, and delivered into a slot on a final assembly line that will not wait.
That arrangement works while the equipment is a variation on something already approved. It stops working when the airline specifies something new, because a cabin fit needs approval twice: once for the article itself, and again for the installation in that aircraft, with that layout, those exits and those escape paths. The second approval is the one that queues, and a premium seat is now a multi-year engineering programme with a certification campaign attached.
The result has been visible in delivery numbers. Both large airframers have said outright that cabin certification and seat supply held up aircraft they had otherwise finished — jets parked with an incomplete or unapproved premium cabin, waiting on a supplier and an authority rather than on anything the manufacturer builds. It is the clearest current example of this industry's general rule: the constraint is rarely the engineering.