Names make news. Last week these names made this news:

The enterprising New York Journal-American tapped Italy's billowing Cinemactress Sophia (Too Bad She's Bad) Loren to guest-write a column for its vacationing Gossipist Dorothy Kilgallen. In carefully fractured English, Sophia (or a waggish ghost) ground out some profound pap. Of men and their sex drive: "[A man] is like a small boy in a restaurant. Can only eat a little bit, but wants the whole menu. He cries if somebody else eat a little too. But if nobody wishes canard sauce bigarrade, he don't wish either. Can be starving, still no canard sauce bigarrade," Sophia's advice to American girls: "Everything I've got I got from eating spaghetti. You try it."

Princess Margaret and R.A.F. Group Captain Peter Townsend, the suitor she rejected for tradition's sake, left London separately, but at the same time, for a country weekend. Margaret was a house guest of Viscount and Lady Hambleden, youthful (26 and 22, respectively) chaperons, if such be needed. Though Townsend's cronies were darkly evasive about his whereabouts, wilder speculation was that he and the Princess were having one last reunion before Townsend, for whom the course of true love proved impassable, departs on an around-the-world car tour (TIME, June 18) all by himself.

A plain woman devoid of jewelry or makeup, the U.S.S.R.'s top lady Communist, Ekaterina Furtseva, 46, an alternate member of the Soviet Party Presidium and wife of the Soviet Ambassador to Yugoslavia, arrived in London on her first trip to the West. Slated to be a fort night's guest of the British Inter-Parliamentary Union, Comrade Furtseva, accompanied by her daughter Svetlana, 14, overflowed with gratitude for her invitation, glowingly lauded the growing affinity between the U.S.S.R. and the country of "Newton, Shakespeare and Byron."

At a London confab with newshawks, Actress Vivien (Gone With the Wind) Leigh, 42, mother of a 22-year-old daughter and wife (for 16 years) of Sir Laurence Olivier, put down gossip that she will again be a mamma by labeling it the truth. Said she: "The baby is due on Dec. 22. If a girl, she'll be called Katherine. We haven't bothered thinking of a boy's name."

'Tween her appearances in the title role of Gigi at London's New Theater, sometime Cinemactress Leslie (Lili) Caron, 25, ex-wife of boppy Meat Heir George Hormel II, happily leaned her head against the play's unboppy director, Peter Hall, 25, announced she will marry him soon.

For the release of her first recording in eleven years (Rockin' in the Rocket Room), mellowing (43) Songstress Frances Longford hove up to a Manhattan pier on the 118-ft. Chanticleer, an air-conditioned pleasure dome captained by her husband, Outboard Motor King Ralph Evinrude. On hand to greet the yachtsmen was Rockin's most conspicuous author, smilin' Cartoonist Zock Mosley, who normally writes the overage dialogue of comic-strip hero Smilin' Jack. Why had he ventured into the teenagers rock 'n' roll rhythm? Drawled well-preserved Mosley: "I'm hepper than most bobby-soxers!"

In the heart of Sherwood Forest, sober-sided Harold Macmillan, Chancellor of the British Exchequer, took corona in mouth and bow in hand, tried to hit a short-range bull's-eye with a suction-cupped arrow in an attempt to promote the sale of his brain child, a savings bond that pays no interest, but offers investors a chance to win -L-1,000--a financial stratagem known to Britons as "having a flutter on Harold." Nobody's archery was good enough to win the prize--one -L-1 bond. Southpaw Archer Macmillan, perhaps with sporting intent, missed the target by a gentlemanly margin.

On the polo field at Windsor Great Park, the Duke of Edinburgh, a victim of a slipped cinch, took a tumble from his mount as Queen Elizabeth II, Prince Charles and Princess Anne watched. Back in the saddle again, Philip resumed the game, but his accident was interpreted by some as divine retribution: many English churchgoers have recently openly looked askance at the Duke's sporting on the Sabbath.

Rambling through Europe after a meeting of the British Commonwealth's odd-bedfellow Prime Ministers, India's Premier Nehru spent three days visiting Ireland, where he got a revolutionary hero's welcome, plus an honorary doctor of laws degree from the University of Dublin and was feelingly cited for his sympathy and help in Eire's own "struggle for independence."

Cinemactress Marilyn Monroe and her bemused bridegroom, Playwright Arthur (Death of a Salesman) Miller, winged into England on schedule. As British newsmen descended upon them, Miller perked up to a question about how he sees Marilyn. "Through two eyes," replied he forthrightly. "She's the most unique person I ever met." Marilyn revealed that she may no longer sleep solely in Chanel No. 5. Her newly slated bedtime garb: Yardley's English Lavender.

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