"Please--please, no more!" squealed Sweden's vivacious Princess Christina, 19, airborne 16 times as friends and classmates helped celebrate her graduation from the French School in Stockholm. Proud wit nesses to the traditional toss-up were Grandfather King Gustav, 80, bearing a bouquet and Mother Princess Sibylle, 55. Christina kissed them goodbye, jumped into a flame-red Chevy convertible to tour streets jammed with well-wishers, then whizzed along to a champagne party. The fun-loving princess--bound for Radcliffe next autumn--looked like a girl who would fit right in at Cambridge.

Ever-hopeful Philadelphia Lawyer Harold E. Stassen, 56, finally made it--he was unanimously elected to the presidency. Giving solid backing to the onetime Boy Governor of Minnesota (1938-45) were some 1,600,000 American Baptists who chose him president of their 1963-64 convention, meeting in Detroit.

A Swiss cheese on rye (no mustard) and one banana are his customary lunch, but world-famed Architect Walter Gropius settled for champagne and caviar when some 40 colleagues turned out to surprise him on his 80th birthday. Best surprise of all to the prolific former chairman of Harvard's department of architecture was the appearance of an old crony, Finnish Architect Hugo Alvar Aalto, 65. When the two men were through toasting each other, Gropius opened a letter notifying him of an honorary Ph.D. from the University of Berlin. "Isn't that nice?" he said. "And I don't have to go and give a speech--they're going to mail it to me."

Going Dutch with a tiny admirer, Governor George Romney, 55, enjoyed himself at the annual Tulip Festival in Holland, Michigan. Before the day ended, Romney was out there in costume scrubbing the streets--and his demonstration that a new broom sweeps clean must have pleased Republicans who see the Governor as presidential timber for 1964. Soon to come on Romney's busy schedule is a speechmaking date in Washington at the National Press Club, a favorite proving ground for potential candidates.

When she came in for a night landing Down Under, Aviatrix Betty Miller, 37, first woman to fly solo across the Pacific --7,400 miles from San Francisco to Brisbane, Australia--was met by 3,000 rooters singing For She's a Jolly Good Fellow. Now, after ferrying a twin-engined Piper Apache to its Australian buyer, the housewifely Santa Monican couldn't wait to board a Pan Am 707 jet and get home to her husband. Weatherwise, she admitted that she had bounced around a bit during the island-hopping twelve-day flight. And there was a tense moment when "one engine sort of hiccoughed. I was never lonely, though," said Betty, whose sole companion was a ragmopped plastic doll named Dammit. "When things go wrong, I just shout his name and feel better."

In an Old World gesture toward royalty, Manhattan's Regency Hotel ordered a custom-sewn flag of Monaco. Then arrived Princess Grace, 33, and Prince Rainier, 39, and suddenly everything went All-American. The Grimaldis wanted TV--and five sets were sent up, one for each room. Their usual breakfast order was ham 'n' eggs, with oatmeal for the children (Caroline, 6, and Albert, 5). When supplies ran short, Princess Grace herself would traipse off to a nearby grocery. The night she attended a posh art show, Daddy went to the circus--and the youngsters stayed home nursing colds.

Jotting in London's Books and Bookmen on "How to Write a Thriller," Ian Fleming, 54, James Bond's creator and Jack Kennedy's favorite author, says unashamedly that he does it for pleasure and money. His thrillers are aimed "somewhere between the solar plexus and, well, the upper thigh. They are written for warm-blooded heterosexuals. I have no message for suffering humanity and, though I was bullied at school and lost my virginity like so many of us used to in the old days, I have never been tempted to foist these harrowing personal experiences on the public."

He looks like an English nobleman stalking an elk. His mustache would shame a venerable walrus. He is Theodore Sizer, 71, Professor emeritus of the history of art at Yale, a Harvard graduate ('15) and a 20th century go-getter who gets up and goes in unmistakable 18th century style. Since his 1957 retirement from teaching, "Tubby" Sizer has continued to design the banners and coats-of-arms for Yale's schools and colleges, had previously been cited for "all manner of felicitous embellishment," and last week was officially named Pursuivant of Arms, which Yale proudly proclaims as the first heraldic post created in an American university.

Right at home in Goldwater country, Connecticut's Conservative Editor William F. Buckley, 37, mounted the rostrum at Arizona State University. Among the subjects viewed from his lofty pique were pacifism, "liberal mythology," and summitry. "There is nothing wrong with summit conferences," said he. "What's wrong is sending a liberal to summit conferences." Buckley's suggestion? An Old Guard union leader. "If we sent John L. Lewis, for example, he would come back with the Ukraine in his hip pocket." "All those parties," noted U.N. Ambassador Adlai E. Stevenson, 63, can be an awful drag on serious-minded diplomats. But since that is the way diplomacy goes, he told a House Foreign Affairs subcommittee that U.S. delegates in Manhattan need an extra housing allowance to offset entertainment expenses. Whereupon Republican Representative H. R. Gross of Iowa confronted Stevenson with a Satevepost article called "This is the U.N. at Play." One section dealt with "ladies of the corridor, fluffing their hair and painting their mouths" in a vice-ridden Tower of Babble where anything goes. Stevenson balked at the reference to V-girls. "That," he grinned, "is an aspect of the work with which I am not familiar."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.