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

The annual Honors List of Britain's Queen Elizabeth was published with a rare omission: no famous author or actor appeared in the roster of nearly 2,000 British subjects who made the grade. The Aga Khan, 77, who as holder of four British knighthoods can already call himself Sir Mahomed Shah, got a fancy new title, mostly for his aid to Moslems in Britain's East African colonies: Knight Grand Cross of St. Michael and St. George. Britain's urbane ambassador to the U.S., Sir Roger Makins, 50, joined the Aga Khan in the same order. Australia's holder of the world record for the mile run (3 min. 58 sec.), lanky John Landy, 24, was given the Order of the British Empire. Britain's great miler, Dr. Roger Bannister, had been ignored, but more because the list was so dull, London's press exploded in columns of indignation. The editorial consensus: the list had deteriorated into "a haven for aging admirals and bureaucrats."

Connecticut's Republican ex-Governor John Lodge, 51, narrowly defeated in last November's election, was nominated as Ambassador to Spain, replacing Career Diplomat James C. Dunn, who will take over the U.S. embassy in Brazil. Brother of Chief U.N. Delegate Henry Cabot Lodge Jr., he will go to Madrid as soon as his appointment is confirmed by the newly convened U.S. Senate.

In Washington, Attorney General Herbert Brownell Jr. flashed a pearly smile as he bedecked his pretty debutante daughter Joan, 18, with a rhinestone bracelet, a recent gift from one of Joan's bevy of beaux. A short while later, the

Brownells headed up a receiving line to launch the flossiest debut dance of the capital's coming-out season.

At the Vatican, ailing Pope Pius XII,

warmly bundled up and strengthened by a series of blood transfusions, strolled in his gardens for half an hour, his longest period of outdoor exercise since his collapse a month ago.

After about 15 months of separation and wrangling over divorce terms, Yugoslavia's jobless ex-King Peter, 31, and his wife, Princess Alexandra, 33, suddenly kissed and made up. Peter headed for the Swiss mountain resort of Gstaad for a surprise reunion with Alexandra and their son, Prince Alexander, 9. Reported a friend who saw their delayed meeting: "They just fell into each other's arms un der the Christmas tree, and they have been like lovers ever since." But there was a small blight on their new-found bliss.

Muttered Peter uneasily: "We have no money at all." Japan's Emperor Hirohito greeted the New Year with his traditional annual poem, which as usual had the lilt wrung out of it in translation. The royal quat rain: "Stout are the hearts/Of men who toil/At their honest calling/Enduring heat and cold." Cinemactress Ava Gardner, a restless siren who has spent the past month roving the world and attending national premieres of her latest movie, The Barefoot Contessa, popped up in Stockholm. She wore shoes to a party in her honor, pursed her moist lips prettily to get a kiss from Swedish Cinemogul Anders Sandrew, who surprised everyone by declining the lady's gambit, giving her a platonic buss on the forehead instead.

Mme. Sun Yatsen, 64, sister of Mme.

Chiang Kai-shek and widow of the Chi nese Republic's founder, was named pres ident of Red China's Sino-Soviet Friend ship Association, a noisy organization set up mostly for propaganda purposes. Sam ple of Mme. Sun's inaugural speech: "Peace-loving people all over the world have been justifiably alarmed at the [U.S.] pressure exerted to ram through European parliaments the London and Paris treaties for rearming of West Germany." Then she got in a dig at her brother-in-law, Generalissimo Chiang Kaishek, and his Nationalist stronghold of Formosa: "The United States . . . attempts to pre vent the Chinese people from liberating their own territory . . . [But] our [Sino-Soviet] monolithic unity ... is indestructible in the face of any onslaught." After speaking her piece, Mme. Sun was wheeled out of the limelight to await the next occasion when her prestige will fur ther enhance the trumpeted righteous ness of her Red manipulators.

On the 2,950-square-mile game preserve of India's multimillionaire Maharaja of Gwalior, the Maharaja and another potentate, Yugoslavia's well-corseted and bemedaled Marshal Tito, went hunting for tigers. As some 300 ragged beaters, shouting and tossing small bombs, prowled through a ravine below the concrete plat form on which Tito stood, three fright ened tigers suddenly appeared. The Maharaja offered Tito a rifle. The Marshal gestured toward two cameras slung about his bulk and explained: "I prefer to shoot with these." The Maharaja himself then refused to take a potshot at the big cats.

Tito's bag: several fine photographs of the rumps of harassed beasts as they scur ried for the safety of the deep jungle.

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