Hello. You forgot to show the passage needed to answer that question. The passage is:
Festivals were scattered throughout the year, as many as pebbles on the shore, but this festival was a special one. Today Melantha and the other girls her age would be leaving their toys before the statue of Artemis, showing they no longer needed childish things. Melantha reached into her ribbon-decked basket and cradled the wooden ball in her palm, feeling its familiar heft one last time, running her thumb across the chipped blue and yellow paint.
Her little brother Demetrius burst into the room and dashed over to gaze into the basket. "Can I have your ball for Ianthe?" he asked. The cat, hearing her name, lifted her head from the bed where she'd been dozing.
"No, they're all for the festival," said Melantha, kissing the top of his small head. She pictured herself walking out the courtyard gate and joining the parade of girls, all wearing their colorful new finery and carrying laden baskets, their excitement tinged with the solemnity of the occasion.
"I was supposed to tell you to hurry," Demetrius said, pawing through the basket like a playful puppy. Then he looked up at her and asked, "Where's your horse?"
Melantha caught her breath. She'd forgotten the little clay horse, the one that always felt comfortable in her hand, soothed her sorrows, and gave her courage. She looked around anxiously and finally spotted a red hoof poking out from behind her mirror. But she didn't feel relieved; instead, her heart tightened into a knot, and she found herself wishing Demetrius hadn't come into her room.
Their father called for them to hurry, and Demetrius bounded downstairs. The next thing Melantha knew, she tossed the horse under the bed where it couldn't be seen.
As she walked slowly downstairs toward her beaming parents, the basket felt heavier with every step. Her mother fussed about, adjusting the folds in her chiton, straightening her already straight brooches, and tucking in a stray strand of hair. The pride in her eyes felt like an accusation.
"Look!" exclaimed Demetrius, "Ianthe wants to give you a present!" The cat was trotting downstairs, tail held high to show she'd caught something. Purring, she dropped her treasure at Melantha's feet: it was the little clay horse. Melantha's heart sank like a stone in the sea.
"I'll get it for you," said Demetrius, eagerly snatching the horse and reaching to place it in her basket.
But Melantha's mother caught his hand. "Not that one," she said, gently taking the horse and stroking its sturdy back. "It isn't Melantha's to give away."
Everyone looked at her in astonishment. The horse was obviously Melantha's—when she was little she galloped around the house with it, made it miniature stables, and told it endless stories; as she grew older it stood guard on her dressing table, always close at hand.
"Your grandfather gave this to your grandmother as a wedding present," her mother continued, placing the horse on the windowsill. "When I was a girl she gave it to me, and when Melantha was born I gave it to her, and one day she'll give it to her own daughter. So you see, this isn't a toy for Melantha's basket; it's more like a thread."
"Thread isn't made of clay!" exclaimed Demetrius.
For a moment Melantha wondered if her mother was merely giving her a way out of her dilemma. But then she pictured her grandmother's fingers caressing the horse's little muzzle; she remembered her mother placing the horse beside the loom, pretending it was helping Melantha learn to weave. A thread . . .
Stepping through the courtyard gate, Melantha glanced back at the windowsill. The sight of the little clay horse filled her with confidence. Once she'd thought it was merely a toy; now she could feel it connecting her to a line longer than the parade she was joining, a source of strength that she, too, would pass along. She hurried toward the lively throng gathering at the bottom of the street, the basket light on her arm, and her head held high.
Answer:
C. Melantha's discovery before the festival that she has a good reason to keep her clay horse
Explanation:
As we can see when reading the passage, Melantha will participate in a rite of passage where she delivers her toys in a ceremony, which represents the child's passage into adulthood.
Melantha did not hesitate to put her toys in the box and although she did not want to say goodbye to some of them, she was excited to deliver them, minus one. A little clay horse.
She hides the horsetail as best as she can, but ends up being discovered. However, before taking him to the ceremony she discovers that she has a very special reason to keep it and not need to say goodbye, which makes her very happy. This summarizes the main topic of this passage.
