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

A lowly Neapolitan couturier named Lelio Galateri was suing Italy's voluptuous Cinemadonna Sophia (Too Bad She's Bad) Loren on the ground that he got small thanks for converting her into a lady and making her look arresting though fully clothed. Cried Galateri: "In 1953 Sophia was not yet refined and spoke an incomprehensible Neapolitan dialect. She didn't even know how to walk. She had to be educated, taught to walk and not to talk. I redressed her from head to toe and civilized her!" What was Galateri's reward for playing Pygmalion? Muttered he: "She gave me a photograph of herself, signed 'To my great dressmaker.'

A Dallas Morning Newsman clipped an editorial out of the News, hailing Bride-to-Be Margaret Truman, and sent it to the bride's father, Harry Truman. Back came a note of tempered gratitude in which Truman gruffed: "I suppose there has to be a first time for everything." But of the News, a Democratic paper that used to belabor Truman often, the ex-President of the U.S. huffed: "That paper has treated me like a pickpocket."

Amidst his preparations to lead a New Zealand expedition to the Antarctic in December, Sir Edmund Hillary, beekeeper and co-conqueror of Mount Everest, spread the word that he has a vacancy for one newshawk in his party. But the billet has some apron strings attached to it. The extraordinary newshawk he wants will first have to earn a diploma from the New Zealand army's School of Cooking and Bakery--and then be man enough to slave through long polar days and nights over both a hot typewriter and a hot stove.

At 6:30 one evening touring Violinist Nathan Milstein found himself in Chicago, all dressed up and no place to go. In a bit of a funk, he consulted his contract, which cryptically stated that he was to play a concert that night in suburban Evanston, Ill. Misplaced Person Milstein, at a loss for details on exactly where, appealed for help to the Chicago Tribune's omniscient Drama & Musicritic Claudia Cassidy. Manning her telephone, Claudia finally hit on the right place, just an hour before curtain time. At 8 p.m. Fiddler Milstein, calm but breathless, strode onstage at Northwestern University's Cahn Auditorium, played, just as the printed program promised he would.

At a royal limousine window, Britain's Princess Anne, a winsome five, shyly leaned forward to wave at the crowds and the birdie, momentarily eclipsing her mother Queen Elizabeth II as they left London's St. Pancras railway station. They were returning from a weekend in Leicestershire as house guests of Coldstream

Guards Lieut. Colonel Harold Phillips and his wife Georgina, a childhood playmate of Elizabeth's.

Various bulletins and events livened the week in the far-flung Kelly-Rainier prenuptials as they roared toward the April 17-19 fiesta in Monaco. Items:

P: In Manhattan, Grace, accompanied by her sister Peggy (Mrs. George Davis Jr.) and mother, Margaret Kelly (Mrs. John B.), went to a bridal shower, collected a lot of gifts cached under a parasol. P: In London the Sunday Express quoted an admission by Prince Rainier's rosy-cheeked American chaplain, Father Francis Tucker: "I don't care a rap if people call me a matchmaker . . . Matchmaking is part of my priestly ministry." But some "mean people" were upbraiding him for helping Cupid. "One woman wrote, 'Who do you think you are--Rasputin?'" In Paris Rainier hinted that he can wipe off that chubby smile. Growled he: "Up here in Paris I can't control people who chase after me everywhere, but down in Monaco I can--and I could--be brutal about it if I had to."

Announcing her engagement to British Cinemactor Anthony (Something Money Can't Buy) Steel, 35, Sweden's Hollywood-based Cinemaiden Anita (Artists and Models) Ekberg, 24, used the occasion to protest that she has never deserved to be called "Ekberg the Iceberg." Of Scandinavians, Anita proclaimed: "Our blood is warm, not like that of thin-blooded Latins, who live in warm countries and have no energy. I used to swim in Sweden as late as November, when there was a thin crust of ice on the lake."

Back home in Sweden, Anita's papa was told of his daughter's betrothal, forthrightly asked: "Who's the victim?"

A ballet troupe of nine Argentine girls that has been regaling tourists in Happyland, a Panama nightspot, was about to roll on to Nicaragua minus one cutie. Her dubious distinction: she gave up fancy footwork to become a sleep-in secretary for Argentina's raunchy ex-Dictator Juan Peron, 60. But from the flossy Colon apartment where Dancer Isobel Martinez, 23, was ensconced with Conquistador Peron came the clacking, not of a typewriter, but of castanets. To make everything right with the ballet manager, Exile Peron had the entire troupe join him for dinner and offered to reimburse the manager for Isobel's fare from Buenos Aires.

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