For the most part, Caroline Kennedy, 4, sat rapt and on her best behavior as she and her mother* watched Moscow's Bolshoi Ballet limber up for their evening show at Washington's Capitol Theater. She curtsied politely to Ballet Master Asaf Messerer and shook hands with Prima Ballerina Maya Plisetskaya, who looked pretty funny in her woolly leg-warmers. But two hours of Bolshoi can be tough on the best behaved little girl, and Caroline got a mite fidgety. She struggled out of her pink sweater, kicked her red Mary Janes back and forth, wriggled up into Mama's lap, stretched and yawned. Finally Caroline piped: "Doesn't anybody ever eat around here?" Whereupon Jackie fished into her purse and came up with a piece of foil-wrapped candy . . . Next day, during a tour of the White House, the whole troupe got to meet Caroline's daddy.

Informed that he had won the $50,000 Enrico Fermi Award "for his leadership in thermonuclear research," Dr. Edward Teller, 54, who dislikes being called the father of the hydrogen bomb, had just one request. "I would appreciate it," he said, "since this for me is a nice occasion, that you refrain from calling me the father of anything."

To the University of Chicago, of which he was a trustee for 48 years, Meat Packer Harold H. Swift willed the $5,000,000 bulk of his $7,000,000 estate, half of the money to be used at the discretion of the school's officials, the other half as a permanent endowment fund. Cautioned Swift, a bachelor whose major outside interest was the university: "The fund is to be invested and reinvested ... I do not mean thereby to encourage the taking of wild gambles, trusting to luck; but rather I would have said university free to take on occasional unorthodox business ventures in the expectation that some of them from time to time will produce extraordinary results."

"The emergence of Lawrence P.

("Yogi") Berra as a capable business executive is now a fact," said the handout. The job: vice president of the Yoo-Hoo Beverage Company, makers of a chocolate drink.

Manhattan's elegant, four-story town house at i Sutton Place, overlooking the East River, now belongs to the man who lives next door in Nos. 3 and 5. The buyer of the ivy-covered pied-a-terre, sold at auction fortnight ago for a stupendous $436,000: Arthur A. Houghton Jr., 55, president of Steuben Glass, who purchased the property "as a long-term investment." It should prove a good one. In 1943 the Georgian brick residence, built in 1925 for Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, sold for just $55,000.

"He's just drunk," scoffed a bystander as the man fell off the barstool at Las Vegas' Sands Hotel. But Comedian Milton Berle, 54, who has seen more than his share of nightclub stewpots, wasn't so sure. Noting the man's slate-colored face and blue lips, he shouted: "He's not drunk, he's having a heart attack." Carrying the stricken man to a service table, Berle spent 20 minutes administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation until an ambulance arrived. Said Berle afterwards: "I never did find out the guy's name, but I found out later they saved him."

At the dedication of Washington's $110 million Dulles International Airport, some 50,000 people gathered to stare at the soaring lines of the Saarinen-designed terminal building and honor the memory of the man for whom the airport is named: onetime Secretary of State John Foster Dulles. President Kennedy was on hand and so was Ike, who described his old friend as "a man who spent most of his life serving the cause of his country and world peace."

Still lighting torches in what looks like a vain effort to convince the National Aeronautics and Space Agency that she should be the first woman in a space capsule, Aviatrix Jerrie Cobb, 31, told a Washington women's club that she was being given the runaround. The Russians, she said, may soon launch a Mongolian woman into orbit ("They are a small, hardy race used to high altitudes"), while the first space-bound U.S. female may be a chimpanzee. "There's a $1,000,000 budget for a place called Chimp College, New Mexico," said the angry Jerrie, "where at least one female, named Glenda, is taking astronaut training."

For everyone who was anyone along the Rome-New York social beat, the place to be last week was the Spoleto Ball at Manhattan's Hotel Plaza. The charity affair, to raise money for Composer Gian Carlo Menotti's annual Festival of Two Worlds in the medieval town north of Rome, was capped by a "Parade of the Zodiac" hat show. And there they came, trooping top-heavily across the stage: Actress Joan Fontaine as Aquarius, the Water Bearer; Mrs. Marion Javits, wife of New York Senator Jacob Javits, as Capricorn, the Goat; Justine and Lily Gushing, daughters of slick Ski Resort Operator Alexander Gushing, as Gemini, the twins in yellow silk sheaths and sequin-studded grey turbans. To be sure that the headgear crushed not a curl, Hairdresser Mr. Kenneth was backstage with teasing comb at the ready.

One of the most valuable and complete collections of U.S. coins in existence was stolen from the Truman Library in Independence, Mo., where it was being exhibited by its owner, H.S.T.'s onetime Secretary of the Treasury, John W. Snyder. Flying home from Manhattan to preside over the investigation, Truman had his own theory about who stole the $50,000 collection. "Professional thieves have been hired by some coin collector to come and get this collection," he fumed.

So very proper when she played the London Palladium for the Queen, Singer Eartha Kitt, 34, came back to earth in Bonn at the annual Presseball, which marks the opening of the West German capital's social season. Decked out in a slit gold lame gown, Eartha purred I Want to Be Evil with such wickedness that the high-ranking audience cheered and President Heinrich Luebke came up to congratulate her after the is-minute show. Luebke's wife Wilhelmine insisted on meeting her too.

Steaming through San Francisco as the prize exhibit of the city's "London Week," England's saber-tongued Prince Philip left a trail of wounded feelings after engagements with photographers, city officials, and students at the University of California. But he saved his sharpest lip for his own countrymen. At a showing of British painting and sculpture at the San Francisco Museum of Art, the Prince stared at Relief Construction, by Sculptor Victor Passmore, and growled: "That looks like something to hang a towel on." His opinion of Lynn Chadwick's Black Beast: "A coffin for a beatnik." And a white canvas with blue square by Painter William Scott reminded him of an empty Piccadilly signboard.

* Enshrined last week in the First Ladies Hall of the Smithsonian Institution was the white pran d'ange gown, beaded chiffon overblouse and cape that Jackie wore only once to the Inaugural Ball.

The dress is exhibited on a plaster mannequin of Jackei's size and shape; but the face, like those of the other effigies, is a stylized version of Cordelia, King Lear's daugher.

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