To the 13,000 Boy Scouts encamped at their quadrennial World Jamboree in Idaho, she was the logical guest of honor, even if she doesn't exactly rough it in her 16th century palace in London, built by Cardinal Wolsey and touched up by the initials of Queen Elizabeth I carved into the woodwork in 1568. For at 78, Lady Baden-Powell, widow of scouting's founder, still serves as Chief Commissioner of the 6,000,000-member World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts ("We've had them all--Queen Elizabeth, Queen Juliana of The Netherlands, and that nice little Queen of Greece"), urges forward the cause of scouting with unflagging noblesse. "When I travel, I always call on ministers and kings and queens," she says. "There's a lot of them left." And should she meet a commoner un familiar with the name of Baden-Powell, she still quotes a rhymed guide to pronunciation taught her by her husband 55 years ago:

Man, matron, maiden

Please call it Baden;

Further to Powell,

Rhyme it with Noel.

Forgotten in Brazilian exile for the past four years, after accusing Charles de Gaulle of "treason" in granting Algerian independence, France's Georges Bidault, 67--twice a postwar Premier, nine times Foreign Minister--took several large steps closer to home, established residence in Belgium and promised a return to France soon. In the meantime, he vowed to say and do nothing to blight Belgian-French relations. When reporters asked if he would approach De Gaulle for an amnesty, Georges replied grandly: "I, Bidault, approach that wretch?" Besides, he said, "to have amnesty one must first have been pronounced guilty. For what it is worth, I have never been convicted."

A naval commander in World War II, Prince Philip, 46, is predictably a demon in a dinghy. A brisk breeze rippled the sea as the duke sailed a Flying Fifteen sloop to the starting line off the Isle of Wight in his first skipperly confrontation with that not notably nautical upstart, Prince Charles, 18. But with the aid of a ringer crewman, Flying Fifteen Designer Uffa Fox, Charles finished a respectable 13th in the field of 22, chantied snatches of The Pirates of Penzance as he sailed past his dead-last daddy. "He's going to be a great helmsman," cried Fox. "He's got it all."

"I got famous first for nothing," she said, "so now I'm much more concerned with the work than the fame." Created whole by expostulatory publicity as the jet set's hottest afterburner three years ago, Baby Jane Holier, 27, is trying "to find reality" through acting, has graduated from $200 underground films to a genuine Hollywood talk-on. She is also enjoying her most stunning success to date--undulating on the floor of off-Off Broadway's Cafe La Mama as the hopefully seductive heroine of a one-acter called The Love Lecture. "You give your all, and they dig it," said Baby Jane. "You can't play a part without facing yourself and communicating." "It's really groovy," agreed her leading man, "all that rolling around onstage together."

"Haul down my flag, please, Jerry," said the admiral to his aide, and as 3,000 Annapolis midshipmen and officers threw a final salute, David Lamar McDonald closed out a brilliant 43-year career in the Navy, the last four as Chief of Naval Operations and the Navy's champion on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. A Georgia boy who graduated from Annapolis in 1928, Dave McDonald served 14 months as executive officer aboard the carrier Essex in World War II, made his stars at SHAPE and as Commander in Chief of U.S. Naval Forces Europe, before jumping over seven senior admirals to become CNO in 1963. Now, at 60, he intends to duck "a big job" and "get so many little irons in the fire that it won't hurt if I pull one out."

One might think that another voyage by Robert Manry, 50, lone conqueror of the Atlantic two years ago in his 13|-ft. Tinkerbelle, would call for a few squee-oos of the boatswain's whistle. But nobody even raised a dockside martini. To be sure, Manry had changed his modus navigandi considerably. His boat was a new, fiber-glass 27-footer outfitted with a record player, a TV set, a wife and two teen-aged children, and he had only charted a yearlong bathtub cruise from his home port of Cleveland to the Bahamas and back.

"We think it will be educational for the kids," said Wife Virginia, but the thrill seekers ashore would have none of it. "What kind of adventure is there in going down the Mississippi?" snorted a kibitzer from Manry's yacht club. "Hell, even Tom Sawyer did that."

First Lady? Yep, and First Baby Sitter too. While Luci Nugent and Husband Patrick buzzed off for two weeks in New York and the Bahamas, Lady Bird Johnson took over the care and feeding of Grandson Lyn, now six weeks old. She fixed up a third-floor White House bedroom as a nursery, plugged any gaps in her memory of maternal routine by signing on Luci's childhood nanny for the duration. With all hatches secured, Granny Bird herself then left for New York for two days of shopping. Lyn's carefree parents, meanwhile, removed themselves to Nassau, where they will celebrate their first anniversary this week in a ten-room beachside villa lent them by a friend of L.B.J.'s.

Except for the new freeways, she said, Los Angeles looked the same as when she last saw it in 1957--but that was before she got a proper tour. One of the additions is the 2,100-seat Howard Ahmanson Theater, where Ingrid Bergman, 51, will open in September in the first American production of Eugene O'Neill's last, unfinished play, More Stately Mansions. Absent from the U.S. stage since 1946, Ingrid will play Mansions for six weeks in Los Angeles, then bring it to Broadway for a three-month run. She ought to be ready. In 1941, when 25-year-old Ingrid was performing in O'Neill's Anna Christie, the playwright confided that he was working on a play called More Stately Mansions, in which there was the role of a destructively possessive mother that she was equipped to handle in every respect but age.

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